


Begging Me To Open Up My Mouth

by Green



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Reversal, Alive Hales, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Canon What Canon?, Coming Untouched, Cropping, Dom Stiles, Dom/sub, Endgame Steter, Enthusiastic Consent, Flogging, Happy Ending, Impact Play, Kink Exploration/Discovery, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masturbation, Mild Daddy Kink, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Original Characters - Freeform, Rimming, Safewording, Spanking, Spark Stiles, Sub Peter, Tattooed Stiles, negotiation, oral sex/blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2018-11-22 13:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 29
Words: 72,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green
Summary: In a world where the supernatural is known, Peter still has to stick out. He can't just be a werewolf, he has to be a sub, too. He can handle the stupidity from his classmates, he doesn't even care about that, but Talia not understanding what he needs because werewolf subs are so rare?Yeah. That he could do without.***Stiles is a Spark, freelance Emissary, and a Dom, in that order. He likes it that way. The freedom of it, the ability to travel and learn. He's not ready to settle down.But he maybe considers lingering when someone catches his eye.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for months now and it kept growing and growing. I'm finally done and except for editing, this is ready to go.
> 
> I could never have written this fic without Twisted_Mind. I can't even say how much she did for this, helping me chapter by chapter as I wrote, and then turned around and is providing amazing beta, too.
> 
> So thanks to Twist and Belle for beta reading. And Twist wrote the summary, too.

Peter's not allowed in the club. He doesn't know how Talia expects him to find a good Dom if he's not even able to scope out the field. But his sister keeps saying he's too young, too inexperienced, that he’s not ready to pick someone out yet.

It's not fair. All the bouncers know Talia and she's put out the word that her submissive little brother isn’t allowed inside. But they can't stop him from hanging around outside, so he does that sometimes. Just to see who goes in and out.

Tonight he's in luck. Maybe later he'll put it down to fate. 

He doesn't think much of the man at first. But something makes him look twice, and he's glad. The man's shoulders are broad, and Peter likes that. But it's the arms that grab his attention, or rather the tattoos on them.

Peter prides himself on being knowledgeable, but some of the runes on the man's arms are far past his education. He recognizes they're powerful, though. He can practically feel a frisson go up his spine at the sight of them. 

The man turns his way, as if he can feel Peter's gaze. Peter’s measured, sized up in an instant by intense eyes, like a physical touch. Then the man disappears inside the club.

Peter’s left with nothing but his imagination for the next hour. He doesn't move from his spot at the corner. He doesn't want to miss his chance for another glimpse.

* * *

Stiles is at the club for business and business only. He meets with his client, has a drink, and discusses his next job. His mind is only half on the business. At the next table, a carpenter is helping design a new cross for an alpha werewolf. At the stage area, a succubus shows her control by sucking energy just from her Domme, and only when permitted. Stiles can see the energy while others in the club can only go by the Domme's reactions. This is his first visit to _les Pleurs_ and he's already planning to return.

He didn't miss the boy outside, either. He hadn't meant to extend his senses that way, but the boy had looked so delicious. Stiles wanted to know more about him. It was only for a second, and from afar, but he got a good sense of him, enough that he knows the boy spells trouble. Too young, for one thing. But also too full of potential. 

He really should leave out the back door. Another glance and he’ll be tempted. Hell, he already is. But it's a game. Will he have enough self-control to walk past the boy and not say anything or beckon him closer? Will he be able to pass up those big blue eyes?

He thinks he can.

* * *

Peter sees the man walk out of the club an hour after he disappeared inside. Now he's even more intrigued. He can't help but stare. The man walks right past him, but doesn't look his way. Peter wonders if it’s his imagination, or if the man is fully aware of him? He's not looking, but Peter can feel the attention on him. It's heady. 

The man keeps walking, and doesn't look back. 

Peter follows at a distance. He doesn't want to lose his chance. If the man disappears, Peter won't know where to look for him again. It only makes sense to follow. It's not stalking, not exactly. Peter just likes to know things. He knows following is probably a dumb idea, but he's tired and there's an itch under his skin that pushes him on.

He loses sight of the man two streets from the club. At first the man was right in front of him, but now…

It's dark. There are two streetlights, but their bulbs are dull yellow and give off weak light. The street doesn't look familiar. Where is he? He can't read the sign on the corner. There are no cars, no headlights. Every window is dark.

It's nearly silent. Like this place is cut off from the rest of the world. It's not normal. Something's wrong. A chill runs down his arms and he turns, sure to see the man standing behind him. There's nothing there. 

That's when he hears laughter. He's made a mistake. He's always been told not to fuck with magic users and for the most part he's taken the warnings seriously. But there was something about this one, and now he's fucked.

He closes his eyes. He should be able to think of something to get himself out of this, but for the first time in his life he draws a blank. 

There's a hand at the nape of his neck and he relaxes. It's automatic. He's always relaxed under a steady, firm hand. "Did you think I'd keep you if you followed me home?" 

Peter realizes his dick is plumping up, despite the implied dog joke. "Will you?" he asks before he can think better of it.

"You're how old, fifteen?" 

Peter's eyes fly open in outrage. "Seventeen!" He can see perfectly now. The eerie darkness is gone, and his senses are working fine. The man is inches away, watching him, and Peter doesn't know if he should be put out by the trickery or utterly infatuated with the display of power.

"Oh, so mature. What's your name, little stalker?"

Peter drags himself back up to his full height and scowls. "Peter Hale."

The man doesn't say anything for a moment, like he's thinking. Peter licks his bottom lip and the man's eyes follow the path of his tongue. Good. It gives Peter some bravado. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Stiles."

Peter snorts. "That's not a real name."

The man looks amused. "It's my name. Let me guess--Hale Pack? This works better than I thought. How about instead of you following me home, I take you somewhere?"

Peter drags in a breath slowly. Something seems off about the suggestion. "My sister won't pay a ransom if you're thinking of asking for one."

Instead of seeming angry or offended, Stiles’s grin widens. "Where was that healthy suspicion earlier? Didn't anyone ever tell you not to mess with a Spark?"

Peter sucks in a breath. The man’s a fucking _Spark_.

" Well, come on," Stiles says, and suddenly they're standing in front of an old, beat up, blue Jeep. "Get in."

Knowing it's hopeless to resist but unwilling to just get into the car, Peter looks at him.

"I'm taking you back to Alpha Hale."

* * *

Stiles thinks Peter is adorable, but he's got to be careful not to give himself away. Especially when he's walking into the home of Peter's sister, who’s also Alpha of the Hale pack. 

"Stiles?" Talia asks, probably wondering what he's doing here early. "And… Peter. I should have known something like this would happen." She sounds angry and embarrassed. Stiles doesn't want that.

"It's fine. I just found him wandering around and thought I'd give him a ride, since I was headed here anyway."

Talia gives her brother a glare that could peel paint off the walls. He gives her an innocent look in return. Damn, the things Stiles wants to do to him.

He's grateful he knows how to keep his scent under control or the Alpha might kill him for wanting to defile her baby brother. "I'm surprised you let him wander around alone, as young as he is, and unclaimed." He knows he's pushing it but the thought of Peter getting hurt bothers him.

"You know…?" Talia rounds on her brother. "Peter, what did you do?"

"That's he's a sub? Yeah, but not because of anything he did," Stiles says, though Peter's reaction to being scruffed would have given it away if he hadn't known. "Subs have a certain energy about them. I can… taste it." He shrugs.

"You must be powerful," Peter murmurs.

"Go to your room." Talia turns to her brother. "You don't need to be here for this."

There's a spark of defiance in his eyes, but Peter does as he's told.

"I like that one," Stiles says.

"'That one' is seventeen." 

"Oh, I know. I wouldn't touch him without permission." No mention of whose permission he'd be looking for. He gives her a smile meant to disarm. He doesn't think it works. "Did you want to talk business tonight or wait until tomorrow?"

Talia tips her head. "Tomorrow, I think. I insist you take our guest room, it's got to be more comfortable than a hotel."

* * *

Peter lies awake most of the night, debating whether or not to sneak into Stiles’s room. In the end, he just jerks his dick roughly, eyes closed to imagine the powerful Dom whispering filth in his ear. Maybe using magic to hold him still, keep him right where he's wanted. It makes him shudder and nearly call out as he comes.

He sleeps, finally, after. He dreams of whiskey eyes, runes, and surrender.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles hasn't always been an early riser but in recent years he's been forced to take up meditation. Keeping his magic under control at all times is important, and meditation helps. He was skeptical when his mentor suggested it, but it works.

But meditation means getting up at the ass crack of dawn. After, he usually goes for a run. This time, he just does some pushups and crunches in the guest room, then wanders downstairs in search of food. It's easy enough to find the kitchen. All he has to do is follow his nose.

He doesn't enter when he gets there, though. He's stopped by the sound of Peter and Talia arguing.

"I know what you're thinking but no. You stay away from him," Talia is saying.

"You're not a mind reader. And why? He can't be a bad guy if you let him sleep in the pack house. You trust him that much and I can't even spend time with him?"

"You're too immature to start-"

"Excuse me, I'm not immature! You keep treating me like… like I'm still your baby brother, getting into mischief!"

"That's exactly what you are, Peter!" Talia growls.

And that's it. Stiles can't take any more of this. He steps into the kitchen and makes his presence known. "Excuse me."

He notices that Peter drops into a more submissive stance, his hands loose at his sides even though he was viciously angry a moment ago. Talia seems to notice too, and glares at her brother.

She's extremely overbearing, is all Stiles can think. Well, no. His second thought he voices. "If you keep him away from Doms, he's not going to know what a good one even looks like. He needs experience or he's going to get hurt."

Talia's eyes widen, then narrow again. "This isn't your concern." 

But Peter is watching with hope in his eyes.

Stiles faces Talia. "You're too close to this. He's your brother and your beta. He needs to experience Doms who aren't so entwined in his life."

"I take care of him when he needs it," Talia snaps. "Not that it's any of your business."

Stiles grimaces. Talia doesn't seem like the kind of Domme he'd want taking down any sub, but he's sure he's making a snap judgement. Not to mention that the boy is old enough to need a sexual component to his scenes, and unless the Hales are into incest… "He's too old for just that," Stiles says. "Why haven't you at least hired a Dom to help him learn?"

"There are classes for subs in school. I don't know what else you think he needs. He's too young-"

Stiles cuts her off with a wave of his hand. She stops talking, though she doesn't look happy about it. Stiles looks over at Peter, who is watching avidly. Stiles holds his gaze. "Let me guess. First werewolf sub in the pack in some time? If ever?"

Peter flushes and Stiles can practically taste his shame, but the boy doesn't show it otherwise. In fact, he raises his chin defiantly. Stiles grins.

"He is." Talia clears her throat and shakes her head. "I don't know what that has to do with anything, though."

"He's a werewolf. When the time comes to be claimed, it'll be a stronger bond than it is for human subs, and it’ll probably happen a lot sooner than you think. A werewolf sub's needs are different than those of a human sub."

Talia narrows her eyes. "I've never heard of that.”

"I have," Peter speaks up. "There's a book about it in the pack library."

Talia rounds on him. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

Peter huffs. "I've tried. You always blow me off."

This is bad. Talia looks devastated. Stiles understands. Being told you haven't listened to a sub's needs when they communicate is a slap in the face or worse to a Dom. Stiles imagines it's even harder for Talia, who’s not only Peter's keyholder but also his sister and alpha.

"I'm sorry, pup," Talia chokes out. "I'll read the book and listen to what you have to say about it. I have no excuse."

"I guess I could've tried harder to tell you," Peter mutters, looking like he doesn't quite know what to do with the apology. Maybe Talia doesn't do it much.

Talia shakes her head. "No, I should have been more receptive to what you had to say. Communication is important and as the Domme I need to remember it's harder for you to assert yourself when there's a problem. No wonder you've been acting out."

Stiles is surprised Peter hasn't done more than just misbehave a little, but he keeps that to himself. He's also a little concerned at the stereotype Talia's just voiced. He doubts Peter has trouble asserting himself. He probably has other reasons for why he approached his sister the way he did.

Stiles’s stomach rumbles and they both look his way. "Breakfast?"

"Yes, of course." Talia looks grateful for the change in topic.

"I made pancakes," Peter says. "Do you like banana and chocolate chip or plain?"

"Banana and chocolate chip sounds delicious. Thank you." Stiles lets warmth seep into his voice. 

Peter soaks it up. He fixes Stiles a plate and dusts it with powdered sugar.

"It looks wonderful," Stiles praises. 

Talia glances at them both and announces she has work. She looks like she's about to say something more, but catches herself and leaves without a word. Peter looks after her with confusion on his face. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "What?" 

"She didn't warn me to be on my best behavior." Peter smiles. "I can't believe she left me alone with you."

"I'm not about to ravish you this early in the morning. I just want to eat right now."

Peter flushes. "Saving the ravishing for later?" 

Stiles raises an eyebrow and takes his first bite of pancake. Then moans. The pancake is just the right amount of hot, slightly crisp and sweet, and the banana flavor melts in his mouth along with the chocolate. "Jesus. These are delicious."

Peter grins brightly. "Really?"

"You're an amazing cook." Stiles smiles and gestures at the plate. "You were so good to make these for me. Thank you, Peter."

Peter gives a slow blink and leans against the counter. His body language is relaxed and open. Stiles wants to pull him closer and kiss him, but he also wants to eat more of the delicious food. Food wins out.

"Coffee?" Peter asks, slightly dazed from watching Stiles eat.

"Yes please." Stiles has been shoveling the pancakes down but he pauses to look at Peter and smile. "Have you already eaten?"

Peter nods. "I wasn't sure when you'd want to eat so I didn't wait."

"That's good. Do you drink coffee?” Stiles asks. Peter seems surprised, but nods. “Will you sit down and have a cup with me?"

He fixes Stiles's cup with sugar and cream as directed, but Stiles notices he takes his own black. He files that tidbit away for a later time.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," Peter says once they're both seated together. 

"I only told the truth.”

"But if you hadn't said it, Talia would still be treating me like… I don't know. A kid." Peter bites his bottom lip. It's adorable.

"I’m sure you would have found a way to tell her eventually. You aren't a pushover."

"I don't think I'm a very good sub." Peter looks down. "I try to be. But…"

"I don't buy into the myth that there are perfect or horrible subs. There are good and bad _people_ , and sometimes that translates over to dynamics. But Peter, nothing you've shown me has made me think you'd be anything but good for a Dom who appreciates you."

Peter sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, his eyes down. When he looks up again, he's practically glowing. "Thank you."

* * *

Peter gives the book he mentioned to Talia. He's almost hesitant because she'll know. She won't understand, but she'll read the words and she'll know just how different he is.

He knows what's in the book. He's read it over cover to cover more than once. He didn't understand why he craved certain things before he found it, didn't realize his needs were different than those of other — human — subs.

He also knows the book explains what kind of Dom someone like Peter needs, and it'll be clear to Talia that her way of doing things hasn't been enough. Will she bristle, or will she feel bad that she hasn't been able to give him what he needs? Will she be angry he didn't tell her before this?

He's tried to be good. Tried not to push, even though his personality demands otherwise. Stiles seems to understand that, though.

Stiles called 'perfect subs' a myth. Peter clings to that as he waits for his sister to read and understand.

* * *

Stiles doesn't see Talia for a full day. He's left to his own devices, so he meditates, runs through the preserve, and refreshes the wards around the pack house. It's not what he's being paid to do, but until Talia’s around he can't do that. 

The wards are busywork. He adds to them here and there, making them stronger, more specific to the Hales. 

He knows Talia is busy reading about werewolf subs. He's not surprised, when he thinks about it, that she's uninformed on the subject. It would have been nice if she'd educated herself once she had a werewolf sub in her care, but Stiles knows nothing about this situation is malicious. Her ignorance isn't justifiable, in his opinion, but it is understandable.

He sees Peter here and there, but not for long enough to really talk to. He can tell Peter’s anxious, probably about what his sister is discovering. 

He wishes he could spend some time with the boy, get him settled and less unsure, but that's not his place. 

(But it could be. Maybe. If things go the way he thinks they will.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this edited early so here, have the chapter a day ahead of time. :D

Talia comes to Peter in the dining room, where he's doing his homework in companionable silence with Stiles, who’s reading one of the Hale tomes. She doesn't acknowledge that Stiles is in the room, her attention all on Peter. She doesn't give the book back. "I need to read it a few more times," she says. "But, for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"You didn't know." Peter will give her that much.

"It's true born werewolf subs are rare. But I'm your Alpha, and I should have had some knowledge on the subject."

"Talia — Alpha. Stop." Peter winces at the weakness in her voice. "Please. You don't owe me an apology. But now that you know, just… help me?"

Talia looks unsure. It makes Peter uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to fix this.

"Alpha Hale," Stiles says, gaining Talia's attention. "If you let me, I could help you both."

Peter sucks in a sharp breath, thinking the offer is too good to be real. And if Talia takes Stiles up on it, that would mean maybe, finally, Peter could get what he's been craving, needing, for so long.

Talia nods slowly. "I do trust you, Stiles. I've known you for years, and your family and the Hales have long been allies." Which is news to Peter, but works in his favor, so he doesn’t interrupt. "Peter needs more than I can give him."

Stiles nods, turning to Peter. "Obviously this is up to you, though."

Talia makes a soft sound, but doesn't disagree. Peter feels like he's in a dream. "Yes. I want this. Please." Peter’s eyes get caught on Stiles and he can't look away. This incredible, powerful man... he's volunteering to be Peter's Dom. Temporarily, it seems, but still.

Before Peter can get too caught up in daydreams, his sister speaks. "Of course, there’ll be ground rules."

At first, Peter thinks she's talking to him, but when he glances at her, she's staring Stiles down. He knows this look. Overprotective big sister. Peter wants to object, but Stiles is nodding.

"Of course."

"And the three of us will hash this arrangement out before you start anything." She turns to Peter. "And I do mean _anything_."

"I think that's smart," Stiles says. "And it’ll help prepare Peter for future contract negotiations."

Peter's heart rate is climbing. This is really happening. "We've studied that in school, too."

Stiles and Talia both smile. "Then it'll be a good chance to show us what you've learned," Stiles says. Talia seems appeased that Stiles is including her. Peter thinks it's a strategy to keep her friendly and open to what Stiles has to say.

Peter's not sure what Stiles is up to, but he recognizes manipulation when he sees it. It's thrilling to meet someone who'd do that, someone who might understand him more fully. If Peter hadn't already been intrigued, this would definitely reel him in.

"I'd want to stay longer than we originally agreed on," Stiles says.

Talia raises an eyebrow. "I understand why, but can you do that with your work?"

Peter wonders what kind of work Stiles does.

"I'm an unattached Emissary for a reason." Stiles says it easily, but underneath the casual words, Peter senses a loneliness that calls to his wolf, the part of him that understands the importance of pack. "I've always enjoyed the freedom. I don’t have any clients lined up after you, but there's a large enough supernatural community in Beacon Hills that I can take commissions without having to leave for any length of time."

"How long will you stay?" Peter tries to keep the breathlessness out of his voice. He doesn't succeed.

"As long as you need me," Stiles says, and he seems serious. Committed. "We'll settle on a specific term for the contract, but we can leave some wiggle room if we want to add to it."

And now Peter realizes that Stiles doesn't know him. Doesn't know what his personal needs will be, as a born wolf submissive. He doesn't know exactly what he's getting into, but he's eager for the hands-on experience.

But powerful, attractive Doms haven't exactly been beating down his door before now. Peter's not suspicious of Stiles’s intentions, but he is curious why Stiles is willing to help in the first place. "Why are you doing this?" Peter asks.

* * *

Stiles knows he has to tread carefully. Talia is right there, and she can not only hear his heartbeat but can probably smell deceit. Most born werewolves can. Not that he wants to deceive her, but he's not about to tell her he's been hungry for her little brother from the moment he laid eyes on him.

"I have a lot of reasons." Which is definitely not a lie. "But I want to tell you a story, first."

Peter's eyes are bright. Talia's are cooler, but not uninviting. Stiles motions for her to sit, and she does.

Stiles hasn't told anyone this before, so he's not sure where to start. At the beginning, he supposes. "My best friend growing up was Scott, and he’s a sub. He had a rough home life with his dad, but once his parents divorced things started looking up. Everyone expected the two of us to hook up, but we were like brothers and it never felt right to us. He got a nice Domme girlfriend in high school, and Kira was great. Everything was going really well. But then a rogue alpha came through town and attacked them one night, and Scott ended up bitten and turned."

Peter's eyes are wide and Talia looks angry, like she wants to go out and confront the rogue right now.

"Some hunters got the rogue alpha and Scott found a good pack to take him in, teach him the ropes. But the thing is, they didn't know much about werewolf subs either, because they hadn't had any born to them in a couple generations and hadn't taken in any strays," Stiles says. "It's not you. It's just not common knowledge." He doesn't want Talia to feel like he's patronizing her, but he doesn't want her to keep feeling guilty, either.

"What happened to your friend?" Peter asks.

"He went from being a happy guy with an easy going attitude to being angry, belligerent. Even to Kira. Maybe especially to her. He had trouble keeping control of his wolf. On the full moon, month after month, he had to be chained up. He couldn't find a good enough anchor to keep him in control, and the new pack thought it was a shifter problem. It wasn't."

Stiles remembers when he realized how bad it was, when he walked in on Scott shredding his arms with his claws. Over and over. Stiles doesn't know how long it had been going on, and Scott wouldn't tell him. He'd heal, so it didn't seem to matter to Scott.

Stiles knew there was something seriously wrong, and Scott's new pack were strangers to him, meaning he wasn't going to take their word on the matter. So he researched.

"It got so bad that Scott was hurting himself to feel like he had some kind of control." Stiles looks back and forth from Peter to Talia. _See?_ he wants to say. _It could have been you._

"How did you figure out what the problem was?" Talia's eyes are alight with curiosity and she's been leaning in as Stiles talks.

Stiles smiles. "I researched. I looked up everything I could on werewolves. Scott's pack didn't have the book you do. But a druid I knew, who'd been teaching me to control my spark, had an idea. So we looked into it together, and it turned out his hunch was right. The problem was that Scott wasn't reaching subspace. Couldn't hit it. And Kira was trying, but she really wasn't going far enough. Scott needed--well, that’s personal. But it was more than she was doing, and he got to the point where he was tightly wound and out of control because of it."

Stiles takes a deliberate breath, then lets it out slowly. "I want to help Peter. I want to set him on the right path so that in the future, he'll know what he needs from a Dom. I want him to have some experience with scenes, but also with communication."

Peter staring like he can't believe Stiles is real. It gives Stiles a slight buzz. God, if he could get that look on Peter’s face while he was subbing, doing his best to please, being so good…

Peter is smirking, having caught his obvious lapse in concentration. And dammit, that shouldn't be so attractive. He tunes back in to hear Talia say, "...and I'd want you to stay on Hale property. I don't want Peter scening in a strange environment."

"Yes, of course," Stiles agrees. He catches a concerned look from Peter and adds, "Maybe I could move into one of the empty cottages on the grounds? For privacy's sake."

Talia purses her lips, but nods.

Stiles knows he has to bring up the next point, but he's frustrated that he has to. He can already imagine Talia's reaction. "There's one more thing. Peter's seventeen and technically underage. I need your permission for things to move in a sexual direction."

He hears Peter's indrawn breath but doesn't look his way. Talia pushes back from the table, rising to her feet. "There's no reason for your scenes to get sexual."

Stiles shakes his head. "It would be a problem if we were hobbled that way. I don't know what Peter needs, not exactly, but I can read body language. I know when someone’s attracted to me."

"So? He's a teenage boy. He gets horny twenty times a day."

Stiles shakes his head. "He's mature enough to decide for himself, especially when he's in a position where it’s something he needs. How can I take care of him if you don't let me _take care of him_?" He's frustrated but determined to prove his point. "Peter, do you mind if I demonstrate to your sister?"

Peter looks curious, a little hesitant, but shakes his head. No, he doesn't mind.

"Stand up," Stiles says, getting to his feet. "Come here. Turn around." Peter follows each order perfectly and without hesitation, and soon his back is pressed to Stiles's chest. He grips Peter's hip with one hand while he drags the other up to Peter's throat. Peter moans as Stiles squeezes, and the boy melts against him.

"Perfect," Stiles murmurs in Peter's ear. Peter sighs happily, and Stiles looks down his body. Sure enough, Peter's lax everywhere but in his pants, his erection straining the front of his jeans.

Stiles stares pointedly at Talia. "And this was just a simple touch. Imagine him in a scene. I'm not leaving him needy and begging." Not for long, anyway.

Talia squares her jaw but gives a jerk of her chin. "Fine. But I will have him check in with me after every scene."

Stiles agrees. They hash out some more limits — Talia wants a report on how their scenes go, wants to make sure Peter's being taken care of and their contract is being held to. 

All the while, he's hyperaware of Peter.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter doesn't think he needs a contract. "I trust you," he says. "I don't think you're going to fuck me over." _Just fuck me_. 

But Stiles doesn't seem flattered. He looks concerned. "A contract isn't about trust, or a lack thereof. It's communication, which is the most important aspect of any relationship."

Peter pouts. "You sound like my Dynamics teacher. Why can't we just talk about what we're going to do? That's communication."

"You need to learn how to do this," Stiles insists. "Now, I know you're on edge, and you haven't been taken down in too long, but I need you to focus."

Peter can do that. He wants to be good for Stiles. "Yes, sir."

Stiles flips open a notebook and clicks his pen. He motions to the couch beside him. "Sit. Do you like calling me sir, or did you say that because you think I'd like it?"

Peter sits. He's close enough to feel Stiles's body heat, and his scent is a mix of magic and herbs that pleasantly tickle Peter's nose, crisp soap, and the natural scent of Stiles's body. "I don't know." 

"Something to think about. I'll ask you again later, okay?"

Peter watches Stiles fiddle with the pen. His hands are in constant motion, Peter's noticed, and he wonders if Stiles is somewhat nervous, too. "Okay."

"Is there anything you want me to call you?" Stiles asks. "Anything you definitely _don't_ want me calling you? Anything you don't like to hear, trigger words?"

Peter tries to smile. He's not sure where to start. It’s a lot all at once. He opens his mouth to say so, but Stiles is already nodding.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to overwhelm you." Stiles says seriously. His eyes are honey brown and so warm. Caring. "We'll take it one thing at a time."

"Thanks." 

Stiles smiles. "You're welcome. I asked because I like pet names. I like baby, sweetheart. Sometimes I might want to call you my pretty little slut. But I don't want to use terms that’ll hurt you, so it's good to know ahead of time what you like, what you might like, and what you absolutely don't want to hear. So tell me: there something you want me to call you?"

Peter feels giddy with anticipation. "You can call me sweetheart. Or baby. I like them both. And maybe sometimes the other thing, too."

The smile on Stiles's face grows. "Thank you for letting me know what you like, baby. Is there anything you know you don't like?"

Peter frowns. For a moment he considers mentioning that he doesn't like 'bitch', because he certainly doesn't like hearing it at school. But then he thinks of Stiles saying it, making it theirs, and he hesitates. 

"Do you have something to tell me, sweetheart?" 

Peter's not sure, so he shrugs.

"Do you think you can write it down?" Stiles slides the notebook and pen his way and Peter nods. He scribbles his thought down quickly. _"bitch": soft limit. reclaim it? maybe_. Then he gives the notebook back. He doesn't breathe while Stiles reads what he's written.

"Okay. Thank you for letting me know." Stiles gives him a warm look. "I appreciate it."

Peter feels like he's melting when Stiles praises him. He's sure Stiles notices. He's observant, a good quality in a Dom.

"How do you feel about bondage?"

Peter shrugs again. "I've never really seen the appeal. And chains are a thing I grew up wearing on full moons until I found a strong enough anchor. So I don't exactly have fond memories of them."

Stiles nods. "So it's not a hard limit, but not something you particularly enjoy. Do you dislike it?"

Peter thinks about it. "It can be annoying, not being able to move. And most bindings I can get out of."

"How would you feel about me holding you where I wanted you with my magic?" Stiles asks.

Peter sucks in a breath, and the answering twitch in his pants tells him all he needs to know. "It's… I think I'd like that." 

Stiles grins. "Okay. What about symbolic bondage? Would you like to wear cuffs or a collar? Not restraints, but a symbol of being owned? It could be something like a piercing, or subtle jewelry."

Peter thinks about how he won't be able to wear Stiles's marks on his skin because he'll heal too fast. But yeah, he'd like a symbol of Stiles on his body. He nods, unable to speak because he's suddenly breathless at the thought.

"Breathe, baby. Can you tell me what you're thinking?" 

Peter gets his breathing under control. Stiles takes his hand, stroking over Peter's knuckles with his thumb, and that point of contact grounds Peter.

"I'd like to wear something. Probably not a collar, but cuffs? Jewelry?" Peter shivers with anticipation. "I'd like a symbol of you."

"That's good to know," Stiles says. "Collars are for more permanent bonds anyway, I probably shouldn't have mentioned it."

Peter shakes his head. "It's the whole canine… thing. I think I'd prefer bonding cuffs over collars anyway."

"I understand," Stiles soothes. "So are collars a hard limit for you, then?"

Peter tilts his head and closes his eyes. Imagines Stiles buckling a collar around his neck as a sign of ownership. While it's Stiles, and Peter would do a lot for the man, even this early, he can't get over the cold feeling the idea of a collar gives him. "Hard limit. "

Stiles writes it down and leans over to cup the back of Peter's neck. It's not quite a scruffing, but his hand is warm and his grip firm. It makes Peter melt. Stiles leans in, " Thank you," and it chases away the lingering cold the collar left. "So far you seem to shy away from things that might mock your lycanthropy, so how do you feel about being called a ‘good boy’?"

"I like it." Peter doesn't have to think about it. "I'm definitely open to praise." He can feel his cheeks pink at the confession, but Stiles gives his neck a gentle squeeze before he pulls away and writes it in his notes. Peter huffs a fond laugh at the attention to detail Stiles gives everything. "I guess I see the point of all this now."

"It's important for both of us," Stiles confirms. "I need it as much as you do. For example, I need you to know I'm not into degradation. That's one of my hard limits. I'll write it down so we’ll include it in our contract."

Peter nods. "I wouldn't like that, either, I don't think."

Stiles sets his pen down and looks at Peter searchingly. "You don't have much experience, so I imagine there’ll be a lot of things we'll try to see if you like them. I have a checklist for you to go over. I'm sure you know what I mean, you've probably filled out samples in Dynamics class. Mark the things you want to try, and we'll get to it. I haven't written on it, because I don't want your answers to be biased by what you think I want you to say."

Peter is feeling more confident in the process now that it's been laid out for him. "Okay. Let me see it."

Stiles hands Peter a spreadsheet a few pages long. "Just go through and mark Yes, No, or Maybe. You'll probably have a lot of Maybes, and that's fine. When you're done, we'll talk about what I like, and see where there's overlap."

Peter bites at his lip and nods, itching to explore. He reaches for the pen but Stiles stops him. "We're going to take a break, and you can take the rest of the day to fill it out. There's a lot there, and you may need to look a few kinks up, or ask me or Talia about them." 

Peter makes a face. As if he'd ask his sister when he has Stiles. "Okay. When do you want to… reconvene?"

Stiles smiles. "Tomorrow after breakfast?"

"That gives me more time than I need, I think," Peter grumbles. He really wants to get started.

Stiles leans over and ruffles Peter's hair. "I know you're impatient, but this is important. Besides, this will give you time to think about our first scene. When we talk about this again, I want you to have some idea of what you want to try first."

Peter feels his eyes widen. "Okay." He's been given permission — no, an order — to fantasize. He has, hasn't he? It's unbelieveable.

"Is there anything you want to ask before I go make some phone calls?" 

Peter takes a breath. "Can I… will you hug me?"

Stiles looks pleased. "Of course, baby. I don't want you to ever feel like you can't ask for what you need. But you don't have to ask for hugs. You can always have hugs, whether I'm your Dom or not."

They get up and Stiles wraps his arms around Peter. Peter clings to his waist and closes his eyes, head on Stiles's shoulder. He’s taller than Peter, and while Peter’s a werewolf, Stiles makes him feel protected. Of course, with Stiles's magic, he is.

Peter melts into the embrace, and Stiles lets it last as long as Peter needs. Peter's been missing this, simple affection from a Dom. Sure, his sister scents and touches him, because wolves are tactile and it's only natural. But hugs aren't a thing Peter's gotten much of lately.

"Thank you, sir," Peter whispers.

"Anytime, baby."

* * *

Stiles calls Scott first and tells him that he's planning on staying in Beacon Hills for awhile. When he calls his dad, he tells him the same, but that the reason is Peter. It's not that Scott won't sympathize with a werewolf sub needing Stiles's help, but Stiles doesn't want to advertise it. It's new, and it feels too personal. He does mention it to his dad, though. 

"He as bad as Scott was?" his father asks. His empathy for others is part of what makes him such a good Dom. He's set a high bar, but it's one Stiles works to reach in his own life.

"I don't think so, but he does seem pretty starved for affection." 

Stiles is happy that Peter seems to be relatively well-adjusted. He’s looking forward to their first scene, even without knowing what it will entail. He's looking forward to working that out with Peter.

Calls made, Stiles decides to go see Talia about the cottage, and to discuss the progress he and Peter are making toward the contract.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so many thanks to Belle and Twist for beta reading. they are doing their best to make this shine like a diamond. because of the interest, we added excerpts from the Hale library book mentioned in the story. Twisted_Mind wrote the actual excerpts, so thank her for that!

_Excerpts from **Fact or Fiction: Werewolf Subs and and Their Needs**  
By D. F. Hayes_

_from Introduction_

_Werewolf submissives are uncommon in the supernatural community, so much so that they are frequently misunderstood by their nearest and dearest. As both supernaturals and submissives, their needs are distinct, though not dissimilar, to both groups. My goal with this book is to try and dispel common myths and misunderstandings, such that these individuals and their loved ones will better be able to understand and accommodate their needs._

_Like all submissives, they desire to submit in safe, controlled circumstances. Like the vast majority of supernaturals, there are species-specific safety concerns surrounding the loss of control. I will explore common safety concerns and ways to address them in Chapter 2._

_from Chapter 1_

_An important trait werewolf submissives have in common with fellow supernatural submissives is that their drive to submit is deep-seated. It is important to their continued well-being that they are able to experience the release of subspace. Without this, control becomes tenuous, in addition to other, more common side-effects, which include but are not limited to: weight loss, disturbed sleep, loss of appetite, headache, irritability, and inability to concentrate._

_Some speculate the reason werewolf submissives have an increased need to submit stems from the fact that the species as a whole, tends toward a rigid hierarchical power structure. Others speculate that, given the amount of control werewolves are required to maintain over their heightened senses, a safe mode of ceding over control becomes even more crucial. There is evidential support for both theories, with anthropological studies (Appendix B.ii) indicating that werewolf Dominants are frequently stricter with their submissive or Switch partners, implementing routines, rituals, rules and punishments at rates twice that of their human counterparts. Studies examining the ways in which stress affects both supernatural and non-supernatural submissives (Appendix B.iii) indicate that higher baseline levels result in greater subspace-seeking behaviours, although statistically significant data does not exist for werewolf submissives in particular._

_from Chapter 3_

_The most important fact to remember when entering negotiations and/or drawing up a contract with a werewolf submissive is that, like all submissives, their needs and preferences will be individual. Many werewolf Switches and submissives rank higher than average on the masochism index, although approximately one-third of werewolf submissives surveyed (Appendix C.iii) indicated that they identify primarily as sensualists, with corresponding low scores on the masochism index._

_What unites them as a group is not shared preference, but rather, that their optimum level of intensity is consistently evaluated as "high"._

* * *

There's a cottage in the clearing about half a mile from the pack house that Talia aired out for him. It's furnished comfortably, and Stiles is satisfied with it. He orders a new bed, one with a sturdy frame, and a new mattress from a shop in town. He also has someone coming to lay new carpet in the living room and bedroom. Something plush, in case Peter spends a lot of time on his knees.

Stiles pays to get things done quickly so that by the time they have the contract hashed out and Peter's ready for his first scene, everything will be done.

Stiles spends his first night in the cottage before everything is ready getting a feel for it and laying wards for safety and privacy. 

He doesn't usually sleep well in new places. It takes him awhile to drop off, especially when he's got a lot on his mind. Peter is in his thoughts, and when he does sleep, the boy slips into Stiles's dreams like a mischievous spirit.

Stiles reimagines the night he met Peter, dreaming that the tempting sub gives in that first night. Gets on his knees and tells Stiles what he needs. Lets Stiles take care of him, and Stiles wraps around him afterward to pet and praise him for being so good.

He comes awake gradually, holding on to the imagined embrace, the way Peter melted against Stiles's body, the way he seemed to never want to let go. Stiles moans in his haze of not-sleep, palming his cock and imagining Peter's half-lidded eyes greeting him. A sleepy slur in his voice when he wishes him good morning. Sleepy kisses that go on and on because Stiles doesn't want to stop. Maybe he'd roll Peter over, cover him, hold him still to nip at his skin.

Stiles strokes his cock and remembers telling his boy to think about what he wants their first scene to look like. He wants to see his boy take himself in hand and chase his pleasure. He'd be beautiful like that; maybe a little embarrassed, cheeks pink and eyes bright. Maybe he'd pet Peter’s hair while he came, whisper praise and kiss those pink cheeks while telling him what a good boy he is.

It doesn't take much more to push Stiles over the edge — just the image of Peter looking up at him and giving his thanks.

Stiles looks at the clock once he's cleaned up and groans. He overslept, and now there's no time for a run or deep meditation before he needs to get to the main house for breakfast. He's certain Peter will be waiting for him, and Stiles doesn't want to disrespect him by making him wait hours when he'd been clear about talking things over early in the day.

He pulls on a pair of light knit pants, not wanting to go outside nude until he sets heavier wards around the outer barrier of the cottage garden. The garden is slightly overgrown, and he thinks he'll have to do something about that soon. He greets the day with sun salutations, letting the familiar poses guide him into deep breath meditation. It's hot already, even this early in the morning.

He's aware of being watched about halfway through, but he recognizes Peter's energy so he keeps on with what he's doing. Might as well let the boy look. He flexes, stretches, and bends, gaining a faint sheen of sweat that catches sunlight. By the time he's done, he's actively showing off. He knows Peter appreciates his tattoos.

One last breath and he turns to where Peter’s watching. The boy is sitting on the ground at the edge of the garden, a covered dish in his lap. His eyes are glued to Stiles's body. 

"Did you bring breakfast?" Stiles asks, breaking the moment.

Peter blinks and scrambles to his feet, carrying the plate to Stiles. "Crepes with strawberries and cream.”

"Sounds delicious. You make them yourself?"

Peter makes a face. "I haven't mastered crepes yet, but I did the rest. Talia's husband Richard is the real chef in the family. He's been teaching me."

"Thank you for being thoughtful and bringing food. Come in?"

Peter grins and nods. Stiles smiles and turns, walking inside. Stiles motions for Peter to sit at the kitchen table.

"I'll be right back. Gonna grab a shirt." Stiles pulls on a t-shirt and comes back out to sit with Peter. "Have you eaten?"

Peter shakes his head.

Stiles frowns and takes the foil off his plate. There's enough food for three people. Good. "I understand you're excited, and you've been frustrated beyond belief, and I understand why. But you can't neglect yourself, okay?"

"I wasn't hungry." Peter’s mouth turns down mulishly.

"This is something I want to talk to you about anyway, so it's a good time to bring it up. I'm a caretaker. I want to make sure you eat enough and take care of yourself, and if you don't, I'll do it for you. But really, as long as we're together, you're mine. And I take care of what's mine. Get it?"

Peter swallows visibly and nods. "Yes, okay."

"I expect you to eat enough, and get decent sleep, and not stress if you can help it. If you have trouble with those things, come to me. If you have a problem, I want you to come to me with it. If you're hurting, including emotionally, I want the opportunity to take care of you. Sometimes that'll mean I want to give you a massage, or wash your hair, or feed you. Are you okay with that?"

"Yes. Very much okay," Peter says.

Stiles reaches out and touches Peter's face. "Could I feed you now?"

"Yes, sir.” 

Stiles stabs a bite of crepe with his fork, making sure to get a sliced strawberry and some of the whipped cream with it. He lifts the fork to Peter's mouth, which opens obediently.

"Good boy." 

Stiles feeds Peter at an easy pace, and Peter seems to enjoy the attention. Once they've both finished off the plate of food (Peter eating twice as much), Stiles places the fork down and is ready to talk.

"Did you bring your checklist or do we need to go back to the house?"

Peter is whipping pages out of his back pocket. Stiles is curious, but he needs to ask a few questions before they dive in. 

"Are you comfortable with what we've done so far? I know we haven't talked about it much, but when I used you to prove a point to Talia, that was mild humiliation that we didn’t discuss beforehand. I should have told you what I was going to do, but I got caught up in the moment. I want to make sure you're okay with how things played out."

Peter licks his bottom lip as he thinks. It’s distracting. "I liked it. It felt like you were claiming me with that." He pauses, then goes on haltingly. "It's not the same that it was in front of my sister. But... but if you'd done it in front of another person, maybe in public, I… yeah, I would have liked that, too."

Stiles nods, relieved. "For now we need to stay on Hale land, because that's one of the ground rules your alpha has set. If it was up to me, I'd love to take you out and show everyone what a good boy I have."

Peter's eyes go wide and dark. From that reaction, he definitely likes the idea.

"Let's clean up and have a seat in the living room." Stiles stands and picks up his plate. Peter grabs the dirty plate and rinses it off in the sink, using a sponge and soap to wash it. Stiles smiles at his eagerness.

After Stiles pushes the chairs in and Peter finishes the dish, they walk into the inviting living area. It will be even more comfortable once the new carpet’s been laid, but for now the woven rug has a certain charm.

Stiles picks up his notebook and pen, his checklist tucked inside. "Sit. Let me see your checklist."

Looking over Peter's list, Stiles sees a lot of inexperience and Maybes. He tries not to focus on them. It's more important to learn Peter's hard limits first.

Scat and vomit are expected, common hard limits, but Stiles is surprised to see Maybes beside blood and watersports. They make more sense when Stiles takes into account Peter's nature. Other hard limits are speculums, fantasy abandonment — not a thing Stiles has ever been enthusiastic about — heavy pain, ageplay, animal roles (no puppy play for Peter, apparently), cages, total sensory deprivation, fire, fear play, or sharing playtime with others. 

"I don't like to share either."

Peter squirms in his seat. 

Stiles looks up. "I have to ask: one of your hard limits is pet play, and I think I know why, but I'd like you to explain it to me. I don't want to accidentally reference your lycanthropy in an upsetting way."

"I'm a werewolf," Peter says. He holds out one transforming hand and looks at it for a moment before putting the claws away again. "That's not going to change. But I don't want to be treated like a dog, like I’m dumb or less of a person because of it. I don't want to be in a situation where I have to act like a child, either. But there's nothing wrong with calling me your wolf, or even your pup if you wanted, I guess."

"You guess? Is that a soft limit, then?"

Peter bites at his lip, obviously thinking. "I think… once we get to know each other better and I'm sure you don't see me as a dumb animal or a dog doing tricks, then I'll be able to talk about it. Right now — at school, I get treated differently because I'm a sub, and a werewolf, and especially because I'm both. Some asshole Dom told me he'd give me a treat if I begged like a good dog for him. Stuff like that. It's not that I think you'll do that, but if I don't tell you and you get carried away…" Peter looks down at his hands, biting at his lip again.

"You're a beautiful, intelligent person." Stiles takes one of Peter's hands and rubs a thumb over Peter's knuckles. "I understand you don't know me that well yet. You can set all the limits you need. You could simply kneel for me every day and if that's what you needed, I'd be happy with that."

Peter looks up at him, hope shining in his eyes.

"But I know you'll need more than that. That you need things you aren't getting. And I want to help you." Stiles reaches up and strokes Peter's cheek. "I won’t treat you like you're anything less than you are unless it's something we’ve negotiated beforehand. And you'll have your safewords, which I'll always respect. Okay, baby?"

"Okay," Peter says softly. Stiles knows he hears a steady heartbeat.

"Do you want to go ahead and talk about safety protocols? Because I have more than just a safeword to consider. We're both powerful, stronger than the average person, and we need to have a plan in place. If I lose control of my magic, I want you to get away as quickly as you can and call for help. I'll have you memorize a number you can call if it lasts longer than ten minutes."

Peter's eyes are wide, but strangely enough, there's no fear in them. "That can happen?"

Stiles shrugs. "It never has during a scene, but there's a first time for everything, and I want you prepared just in case."

"I haven't lost control of my shift in a long time, but it… I guess it could happen. If it does, I don't want to hurt you." Peter looks worried at the thought.

"If it does happen, what do you want me to do? Restrain you? Seal you in a room until you calm down or I can get Talia?"

Peter nods. "The latter. Restraining me would probably make it worse."

"Thank you for telling me," Stiles says. "My safeword is Roscoe, and we'll also be using stoplights. And if you can't speak for whatever reason, you’ll be able can tap out, or I'll give you something you can drop, maybe a bell to get my attention. So safeword. What's yours?"

"Reeses."

"Okay, good. If you safeword, the scene’s over. I'll always respect that. I don't care if I'm balls deep in your ass-"

"I would never!" Peter sputters, face turning red.

Stiles grins at the reaction. "But I would stop. And if you just want to slow down, take a breather before trying again, or if you aren't quite sure about something, you call yellow. Okay?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "You sound like my teachers again. I know this stuff."

"Nothing wrong with going over it again." 

Peter licks his bottom lip nervously. "Can I see your checklist?" 

"Sure." Stiles takes the pages out of his notebook. "And then we can talk about our contract."

Peter scans the pages like he wants to devour the words. He goes pink again, but Stiles doesn't ask what has him embarrassed. Or is it excitement giving him that intriguing flush? He’ll find out soon enough.

* * *

The contract is drafted, gone over, revised, and gone over again. And then again. Peter's sick of the entire concept when it's time to sign, but it gives him a thrill to put his name under Stiles's. 

Now they just have to take it to Talia and get her stamp of approval. Peter is hesitant

"As far as I'm concerned, we're done," Stiles reassures, reaching out to take Peter's hand. "This is between the two of us. But I understand your sister. She wants to make sure I'm not taking advantage of you."

Peter thinks of how careful Stiles has been, how meticulous. His attention to detail, his attention to Peter himself, has reassured Peter that Stiles will be a good Dom for him. "She worries too much."

"Legally she still has a place in the process," Stiles points out.

"Not for much longer." Peter's excited at the prospect. "I'm almost eighteen."

"But not quite yet." Stiles wraps a hand around Peter's nape and squeezes. It's warm and reassuring. Peter has to lock his knees to keep from sliding to the floor. He nearly whimpers when Stiles pulls his hand away. "You ready to take the contract up?"

Peter wishes they could keep his sister out of it, but understands that's impossible. "The sooner we do this…" He lets the sentence trail off, knowing Stiles can fill in the blanks.

Stiles leans in to kiss his cheek. Then they walk to the main house, contract in hand, to get his alpha's approval.

* * *

Talia purses her lips when she takes the contract and looks over it. She reads it in silence, and Peter can feel himself tense. Stiles rubs his back wordlessly.

Finally, after what seems like forever, Talia looks up and nods. "Everything looks good."

Peter's shocked. He didn't expect this. He's not sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't Talia calmly taking a pen and signing her name below Peter's with a flourish.

"I expect reports after every scene," Talia tells Peter. "Now, I imagine you want to start planning your first scene." Her nose wrinkles. "Please go somewhere else for that."

Peter can feel his jaw drop. Stiles laughs and pulls him out and away from Talia's office.

Once he's recovered from his shock, on the way back to the cabin, Peter laughs, too. He's giddy with excitement and when he looks at Stiles, he sees eyes that are bright with anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being as patient and understanding as Stiles while these boys work things out. The next chapter will involve their first scene.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter isn't used to wearing briefs — he's a boxers guy — but Stiles was specific. Peter checks himself out in the mirror before getting dressed, and he has to admit that the briefs do look nice. The dark blue compliments his skin tone, and they hug him just so, leaving nothing to the imagination. In a way, he feels more naked wearing the briefs than he would without, because he's so _aware_ of them.

He wears simple jeans and white knit v-neck over the briefs. He's already discussed the scene with Stiles and knows he won't be dressed for long.

He's not hungry, but he knows how disappointed Stiles will be if he doesn’t eat anything, so he has half a cheese sandwich and drinks some juice. Anticipation and anxiety are taking turns, twisting his stomach and making him jitter with nervous energy and need.

He knows it's a dumb thought, but Stiles is so much more experienced, and this is Peter's first time in a real scene with a Dom, and Peter's afraid he'll embarrass himself. Mock scenes at school happen, but nothing is ever _real_ about them. They're informative, educational, and utterly boring. Peter doesn't feel up to the scene when he has no experience.

No, that's not true. He’s had scenes with his sister, but it wasn't anything like how this will be — those were an adult trying to placate a child. They still weren't what he needed. They still were outside what he considers real. This is different. 

By the time he gets to Stiles's cottage, he's overwhelmed. He can't knock on the door. His hands shake by his sides. He needs this, knows he's been looking forward to it, but at the moment he thinks he might hate that he needs it so badly. If he didn't, maybe he could approach it with…

He can't think. He needs Stiles to take him down and take care of him and make it so he doesn't have to.

Peter's debating whether he can do this when the door opens. He exhales sharply when he sees Stiles, because the Dom stands straight and proud, aware of himself and his power. He can take care of this. He can fix this.

"Oh, baby, you've gotten yourself worked up," Stiles says, leading him inside. He closes the door and then they're alone and Peter doesn't know what to do, so he bows his head and tries not to let frustrated tears leak out.

Stiles pulls him into a hug, and Peter leans his forehead against the strong shoulder while Stiles pets his hair. "It's okay. We're not starting right away, not until you're ready. Breathe and listen to my heartbeat, sweetheart."

Peter calms to the steady thud of Stiles's heart. 

"Good boy. Did you eat?" Peter nods, and Stiles smiles. "I know that was probably hard when you were so nervous. I know you did it for me. Thank you, baby."

Some more of the anxiety dissipates. 

Stiles pulls him to the sofa. "Let's listen to some music for a while, okay? We have time to relax. And when you're ready to start, I want you to kneel for me. That'll let me know you're in the right place."

Peter takes a sharp breath. "What if I can't?"

Stiles wraps an arm around him, cuddling. It's nice, gives Peter a way to be close without jumping into what they've planned. "Then we try another day. Remember our contract? We have time."

Being reminded of their contract makes Peter more confident. Stiles has a remote that starts music Peter doesn't know, and a song comes on with slow guitar and a soothing voice. The lyrics say something about 'pull me down hard and drown me in love' and Peter can relate. He wants that.

But not quite yet. Stiles seems content, petting Peter's hair. Peter's eyes shut. He concentrates on the touch and music. Soon he's not paying attention to the lyrics, just the slow, sweet guitar and smooth vocals. He feels honed in on one sense, hyper-focussed on Stiles's touch. He knows he's ready for more.

He pulls away and slides to the floor, to his knees. He looks up at Stiles.

"You're beautiful, sweetheart." Stiles looks at him like he's seeing him for the first time,reverent and hungry. "What's your safeword?"

"Reeses," Peter says promptly, glowing under the praise and attention.

"And mine’s Roscoe. Color?"

Peter huffs and rolls his eyes. He almost makes a joke, but says, "Greeeen," like he can't believe Stiles even has to ask.

Stiles grins and gets up, running a hand through Peter's hair and giving a playful tug. He moves toward a chest Peter didn't notice when he came in.

"I'm going to convert the spare room into a play room just for us, but it's not ready yet. So today, we're going to stay in here. I’ve put up wards, so nobody can peek or listen to what we're doing." He holds two floggers in one hand. Peter knows what they are. They've talked this through. He feels a thrill run up his spine at the sight.

"Thank you, sir." Peter likes the idea of a play room of their own.

Stiles gestures. "Time to strip down to your underwear, like we talked about." 

"Yes, sir." Peter stands and turns, too nervous to try to give Stiles a show and too excited to want to do anything but get down to his briefs.

When he's standing in front of Stiles in nothing but the tight blue underwear, he feels more bare than he would naked. Especially because Stiles's eyes are on him in a hungry, possessive way. It makes him shiver.

"So pretty for me." Stiles strolls over and walks around him, eyes never leaving Peter's body. He runs a hand down Peter's back and then cups one ass cheek. "Very nice."

Peter trembles at the touch. It makes him want to beg for more.

Stiles slides his hand up, mapping Peter's shoulder blades and upper back, his hand warm and broad. It's grounding, and Peter leans into it.

"You like it when I touch you." 

Peter moans in response. 

Stiles chuckles and smooths a thumb over Peter's skin. "Time to warm you up. I want you kneeling over the toybox. The top's padded, so it should be comfortable."

Peter could have done it himself, but Stiles leads him every step of the way. It's reassuring. Peter kneels in front of the toy box and then lies across it, his chest resting on the padded leather.

"Good boy." Stiles pets his hair. "I'm going to use the rope flogger first, to get you warmed up. It's nice and soft . Ready?"

"Yes, sir." Peter holds onto the edges of the box. He knows what's coming, but not what to expect. He's never done this before. It's a brand new experience.

He feels the breeze on his back before he hears the sound, and then he feels the fall of the tails against his skin. Warmth blooms there. Peter lets out the breath he was holding.

From there on out, the steady fall of the flogger across his upper back warms him, and makes his skin more sensitive. Stiles stops, and Peter holds his breath again, listening hard for the next action. Then he feels the tails against his upper thighs, warming them as well.

Stiles hums with approval as he runs his hands over Peter's skin, squeezing, testing the warmth and the give. It's exciting because Peter knows what's coming next. 

Stiles's voice is fond. "You're so pretty like this."

Peter is already flushed but he blushes even deeper. "Thank you, sir.” He cranes his neck to catch a glimpse of Stiles, and sees he's smiling. Pleased.

"You're ready for the leather now." 

"Green," Peter agrees, breathing a little quicker in anticipation. The rope was to get him ready for the real thing, bring some flush to his skin. It didn't hurt. The leather will be different. He's read descriptions of how it feels, and handled it himself when Stiles let him see the leather flogger yesterday. 

But he's not prepared for the first fall of the leather tails thudding against his upper thigh. It's a duller sound, but that's nothing compared to the feel. There's the impact, and then heat blossoms beneath his skin.

He gasps, and it’s loud in the quiet room. "Good boy," Stiles murmurs, and then there's another hit, this time across his left shoulder blade, and there's more heat. Peter's eyes water and his heartbeat speeds with Stiles's steady throws.

At first, he feels every impact. The impact is pleasant, sinking into his muscles and making them loosen, but then the strikes begin to bleed together.

Soon he's lost as the heat grows, Stiles making him let go. Its pure, and he’s drowning in it until he can't think anymore.

Peter stops concentrating on the thud of Stiles's heart or his own racing after. He's in a place where he can only feel. He gives in to it, accepting everything, because he knows Stiles will take care of him.

Stiles's voice is there, praising him, telling him he's good, and all Peter can do is meet it all with a smile on his face. Soon, he doesn’t hear anything else, because he’s lost to the euphoria.

* * *

Stiles watches his beautiful boy as he squirms under the flogger like he can't get enough. His skin is a tantalizing dull red where the leather has hit, but the rest of him is flushed with pleasure, too. Stiles looks at him in wonder and accomplishment, not to mention the overwhelming possessiveness. Stiles is as high as Peter, only in a different way.

Peter is his. Stiles has him exactly where he wants, and Peter's all-but begging for more. But he knows it's time to stop. Peter's definitely down, his pupils blown and looking blissed out.

Stiles puts the flogger down and brushes his fingertips over Peter's darkened skin. Peter moans, shivering and pushing into the touch. 

"You’re so beautiful," Stiles whispers, despite knowing the boy can't parse words.

There's a nest of blankets nearby if he can't maneuver him to the couch, which turns out to be excellent forethought because Peter's not going far. 

Stiles braces his back against the wall and pulls Peter against him, before draping a blanket over Peter’s shoulders and pulling another up to his waist. He's quick to offer water when Peter sits up. Peter sips sluggishly, and Stiles watches him with concern and warm satisfaction. After, Peter's head droops against his shoulder, and Stiles kisses his temple. 

"You did so well. I've never seen anyone like you before. " Stiles pets his hair, smiling when Peter nuzzles against his neck. "Come back when you're ready."

He knows Peter's going to be out of it for a while. His phone is on the coffee table, thankfully within reach. He checks to see if Talia messaged him, and she has.

He texts her with one hand, the other still cradling Peter. _In aftercare, don't know how much longer. Not gonna rush him._ Then he sets the phone down, and continues petting Peter's hair. He doesn’t mind waiting.

Once Peter starts coming out of it, blinking and focusing on his surroundings, Stiles starts planning what comes next. Peter will need to eat, especially since he probably didn't have much beforehand.

"Hey, baby." Stiles kisses Peter's forehead. "You back?"

"What happened?" Peter asks, right before a grin splits his face. "Never mind. I know."

"Yeah. Congratulations, baby."

Peter stretches languidly. "You did it. You took me there."

Stiles smirks. Peter rolls his eyes, but is smiling. 

"Let me up. I'm gonna get us some food." Stiles moves, stretching out the stiffness gained from sitting against the wall. He gives Peter's cheek a kiss before shifting away.

Peter doesn't seem to want to let go, but does. Reluctantly.

Stiles is back in a minute with a platter of meat and cheese, fruit, and crackers, and fresh bottles of water. "Here we go. Picnic time."

"Thank you." Peter looks over the platter, but Stiles is offering him a cube of cheese before he can choose for himself. Peter opens his mouth and allows Stiles to feed him, smiling at his Dom.

"You did well." Stiles offers him some sliced turkey on a cracker next. Peter eats from his hand easily, as if they do this every day.

The intimacy of hand-feeding is something Stiles has always enjoyed. He likes taking care of Peter, wants to feed him until he's satisfied and then wrap him up in blankets for a nap.

Peter points at the platter. "Did you have all this ready?"

"Mostly. I may have used a little magic to help things along." He gestures to a piece of fruit and sends a bit of magic its way. Then he offers the now-chilled piece of pineapple, and Peter parts his lips, eyes shining. Juice drips down Peter's chin, and Stiles leans in to lick it away.

Peter's indrawn breath is adorable. Stiles wants to eat it up. "Okay?" 

Peter smirks. "Green."

So Stiles kisses him. It's soft at first, but when Peter doesn't hesitate, Stiles kisses him harder, his tongue sweeping into Peter's mouth to chase the sweetness. Peter groans into the kiss, arms snaking around Stiles's neck so he can press closer. The blanket falls off his shoulders and Peter squirms until Stiles has a mostly-naked, eager sub in his lap.

Stiles reluctantly pushes Peter back and picks up another piece of fruit.,pressing a grape to Peter's plush lips. "Eat."

Peter opens his mouth for him and god, what Stiles wants to do to that mouth. But not today.

Peter leans in for another kiss and Stiles stops him with a finger to his lips. "You need to eat."

"No more kisses?" Peter asks with a pout. He's adorably manipulative and Stiles can't help his answer.

"After you eat. And I want you to drink that bottle of water."

Peter pouts harder. "Really?"

"I can make it an order if that’s easier for you," Stiles says, uncapping a bottle and putting it in Peter's hand.

Peter brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a deep drag. 

"There you go." He can't resist running a hand down Peter's bare back. His skin is tempting, warm and smooth with the slightest bit of downy hair. Peter smiles as brightly as the sun. 

By the time Peter leaves, his lips are swollen and red from kissing, and Stiles is planning their next scene. He can tell Peter is reluctant to go, but he has to report to Talia. 

Stiles squeezes the back of Peter's neck. "Come by tomorrow to hang out. It's good to have contact with your Dom whether we scene or not. We can watch TV or play a game or something."

Peter answers eagerly. "When?"

Stiles thinks something date-like would be better than just hanging around. "I need to work with Talia tomorrow morning, but we can have dinner and do something after. Sound good?"

"Do you want me to cook?" Peter looks excited at the prospect.

Stiles shakes his head. "I can order in. I don't want to take too much of your time."

Peter blinks, then ducks his head. "I don't mind."

"I'll let you cook for me another night. Let me take care of it this time."

"What time?" 

Stiles leans in and kisses Peter's cheek. "Come over around five."


	7. Chapter 7

They eat spicy Thai noodles in front of the TV the next night, Peter sitting on the floor by Stiles's feet. 

It's not a scene, but Peter still likes that he can be submissive with Stiles like this. With his sister, it's always tied up with family and pack, the lines blurring into each other. There aren't conflicts like that with Stiles. It's refreshing, because he can find himself like this, sitting at Stiles's feet and being fed, Stiles's hand occasionally brushing over his hair in a fond caress.

Peter wishes they could stay like this forever. Well, maybe not exactly like this. He tilts his head back. "Are you going to kiss me again?"

"That a request?" Stiles's tone is frustratingly mild.

Peter rolls his eyes and sighs loudly. "You got permission from Talia to have sex with me and you're not even…" He trails off with a huff. He's confused. Needy, to be honest. He can't help it — Stiles is everything he's ever dreamed of, but he doesn't seem any closer to making them a reality.

Stiles runs a hand through Peter's hair, then tugs, pulling him closer. Peter gets up on his knees and moves in as Stiles's mouth slants over his and takes control of the kiss.

Peter whimpers and presses closer. He needs something to hold onto, and it's a relief when his hands find Stiles's broad shoulders. Stiles keeps kissing him, deep and hard until Peter can barely breathe and he goes lightheaded. Only then does Stiles pull back and run his thumb over Peter's swollen lips. 

"You're so pretty, baby. Did you think I was ignoring you?"

"No, no, I just… I wasn't sure if you wanted me." It's an embarrassing confession, but Peter knows Stiles wants him to be honest.

Stiles surges forward and kisses him again, all teeth and lips, sharp and perfect. "I don't want you to doubt that. I just didn't think it was time yet."

Peter whines and scoots closer, presses his body against Stiles's. "Why?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Stiles says, running a hand over Peter's shoulder until he grasps him at the nape of his neck. "I wanted to go slow. We're just getting started."

Peter whines again and bares his throat, all instinct and need. "Please."

"What do you want, baby?" 

"Touch me," Peter begs. "Let me touch you. Or don't, just… something. I need it."

"I know you do." Stiles ducks in to nip at Peter's throat. "I can feel your energy. It builds into a frenzy when you don't get what you need, did you know? I felt it the first time I saw you."

Peter gasps as Stiles runs the flat of his tongue over his Adam's apple. Stiles murmurs something, but Peter can't hear it over the sudden loudness of blood rushing in his ears.

Stiles pulls Peter up onto the couch with him, before pinning Peter under his body. Peter feels small and protected underneath him, like Stiles will take care of everything, keep him safe. Make him whole. 

Peter blinks and stares up at Stiles's face. He's shocked to realize the hardness against his hip is Stiles's cock — that yes, he's wanted. Peter tries to push against him, provide some friction, but Stiles stops that before he can do more than wriggle. Peter catches the scent of magic, feels the spark of it on his tongue, as Stiles _makes_ him go still. 

They've talked about this, and even though Peter's fantasized about it, the reality is so much more intense than he imagined. 

"This okay?" The rasp of Stiles's voice goes straight to Peter's dick.

Peter nods, momentarily speechless. He can move his head, but the rest of his body is pressed down against the sofa, bound by an unseen force, by Stiles's will. It would be scary as fuck if he didn't trust Stiles. 

"Can I have a color?". 

"Green," Peter whispers, and words come back in a rush of need. "Please, sir. Please touch me."

"I am touching you." Stiles skims a finger along the V of Peter's collar. "Is there somewhere in particular you want me to touch? Or are you going to let me do what I want?"

Peter bites his lip. He wants to demand Stiles touch his dick, but he's even more turned on by the thought of Stiles being the one who says if he’s touched or not. It's Stiles's decision. 

"Answer me," Stiles orders, still trailing his finger against Peter's neck. 

"You decide, sir."

"Good boy." Stiles backs off a little and the magic loosens its hold. Peter thinks he could wiggle if he wanted. He tests it; his fingers clench and his muscles flex, but he can't lift his hips. It's a mix of frustrating and arousing. Stiles isn't doing anything but watching him test the limits. He doesn't seem to have to exert himself, and that makes it hotter.

"Now. You want me to touch you?" Stiles grins. "I can do that."

Peter doesn't have time to react because Stiles scoots down quickly and unbuttons Peter's fly.

"I really do like these tight briefs on you. And I know they're not your favorite, so you must have worn them for me." He teases knuckles over Peter's trapped and straining erection, and it steals Peter's breath.

"Yes!" Peter gasps. "Yes, sir."

"And look at this," Stiles says. Peter picks his head up and glances down his body where the tip of his dick is peeking out the top of his briefs. Stiles grins and leans down, tongue swiping over the exposed skin. "Already leaking for me. You're delicious, baby." Stiles licks his bottom lip and smirks at Peter.

"You don't… Are you going to… What are you doing?" Peter’s brain is stuttering over Stiles's actions.

"I'm going to suck your dick, sweetheart." Stiles pulls Peter's jeans down his hips and then tugs his briefs down. Peter's cock springs up, eager for attention.

But Peter's not sure. Shouldn't he be the one with a dick in his mouth? 

"Don't overthink it," Stiles cautions him. And then Peter's engulfed in the wet heat of Stiles's mouth and can't think at all.

The sensations are overwhelming. He goes from feeling slightly uncomfortable with Stiles giving him a blowjob to not being able to put together a coherent thought absurdly fast. He can't hold on to words as everything narrows down to the hot sucking and moan-vibrations in his cock.

He can't hold off and comes rapidly, his orgasm taken by force. By Stiles. He's dazed and so _embarrassed_. That took no time at all. If Stiles laughs at him he'll die.

Stiles doesn't laugh. He slides up Peter’s body and kisses him, his mouth still half full of come, and it’s salty and thick.

* * *

Peter's mouth is nearly slack at first, but the taste of his own come must jolt him back to awareness, because he kisses back and swallows what he's been given. 

Stiles pulls back enough to smile. "You're so sweet."

Peter blinks at him, his breath coming quickly. "What was that?"

Stiles _could_ tuck Peter's spent cock away and pull his jeans up, but he likes the way the boy looks like this, vulnerable, too distracted to notice his disarray. So pretty.

"I wanted to make you come." Stiles smirks. "So I did."

"I'm sorry," Peter whispers. "I couldn't help it… but…"

Stiles gentles his smile. "Are you embarrassed you didn't last longer?"

Peter goes even redder. He nods.

Stiles kisses his cheek. "I wanted you to," he whispers. He lets his breath fan out over Peter's skin, stirring him to shiver. "I wanted to see you lose it for me."

"Can I…?" Peter tries to reach for Stiles, but he's still bound with magic. He whines in frustration and Stiles loves it.

"Not right now." Stiles isn’t sure if he'll come before Peter leaves for the night. He may just tease Peter with the thought. He can tell the boy wants to give, but Stiles is in the mood to deny him. They have time.

Though the idea of teaching Peter how to please him is heady, and one he'll go through with soon. Just not yet. 

"You with me, baby?" Stiles runs one hand up over Peter's shirt so he can play with a peaked nipple through the cotton. 

"Yes s-sir," Peter gasps, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

Stiles smiles. "Now that the edge is off, I want to find out what feels good for you. I’m going to learn your body, baby. Because you're mine, and I like taking care of what's mine."

"Yes sir." Peter moans when Stiles pinches his nipple.

"I'm going to strip you now," Stiles warns. Peter frowns a little, confused. Stiles grins and closes his eyes. He focuses, waves his hand (really, it’s more for Peter's benefit — he can do it just fine without the theatrics), and Peter's shirt, jeans, briefs, and socks are magicked off his body. They appear on the coffee table, folded, in Peter's line of sight.

Peter's reaction is what Stiles anticipates. He sucks in a breath and his energy vibrates. He _likes_ power, especially when it's used this way. His cock gives a valiant twitch, though it's still too spent to harden just yet.

"And now I have my beautiful, naked boy beneath me, right where I want him." 

Peter's eyes shine with something akin to adoration. "I'm not trapped."

"You're not?" Stiles asks playfully, tightening his invisible hold on the boy.

Peter shakes his head. "I don't feel trapped. I… it's nice. Like you're holding me. Feels safe."

This boy is going to be the death of him, with his big blue eyes and willingness to give himself over completely. There's no way Stiles is getting out of this unaffected, the way he thought he might. Well. There was a chance, wasn't there?

(No. No chance at all.)

"I'm glad you feel safe with me, sweetheart." It's difficult to sound unaffected, but Stiles manages. He licks his fingers and runs the wet pads over Peter's perked nipple, the same one he pinched before. Peter moans and Stiles takes note. "You're sensitive." When Stiles leans down and flicks it with his tongue, Peter whines. "Perfect."

He wonders how Peter would react to a little pain. He scrapes his teeth against the hard bud, but not enough to hurt. Peter jerks his head back and keens.

"If you weren't restrained, you'd be thrashing already, wouldn't you?" Stiles is pleased by the thought. He starts to play with Peter's left nipple while he sucks and licks and nips at the right. "I wonder just how sensitive I could make you. I could play with you for a long time, if I wanted. I love the sounds you make."

"Please," Peter pants.

Stiles moves so he can scrape his teeth against the boy's sternum. He's skinny, really. Much thinner than he should be. He doesn't voice the thought, in case Peter's sensitive about it. Instead, he sucks a bruise into Peter's skin and watches it disappear.

Peter's watching, his head picked up a little so he can see. Stiles gives a lascivious smile. "Do you want them to stay?"

Peter's indrawn breath is beautiful. "You can do that?"

"I can do a lot of things," Stiles says, playful.

Peter nods. "Then yes. I want… I want to wear your marks. I didn't think I could."

Stiles surges up so he can whisper against Peter's ear. "I can mark you all over." It's a promise.

Peter whines. " _Please_ , sir."

He laughs softly and goes for the obvious place: Peter's throat. He sucks and nibbles a good-sized mark, and then he whispers against the still-bruising skin before it can start to heal. "It'll last about a week now." Peter's cock plumps up between them.

"Thank you, sir." Peter’s words are breathy with gratitude. 

For the next half hour, Stiles explores Peter's body without once touching his cock. He finds every ticklish spot and erogenous zone. He makes Peter pant, moan, groan, and finally beg.

By the time Stiles is satisfied, there's a lot of begging going on. Stiles dips his tongue once more into Peter's navel and nods. "You've been so good."

"Stiles, sir, _please_ touch me. Please let me come?"

"You beg so pretty for me," Stiles murmurs, running a hand through Peter's hair soothingly. "So I'll let you get off. I'm going to let you go, okay?" And then he eases the magical bindings.

Peter doesn't move at first. Like he's not sure if he should. Then he looks up, begging with his eyes before using his words. "What can I do?" His fists open and close at his sides. He doesn't reach for his cock yet, even though he's red and leaking. Desperate.

"I'm going to put my hand on you, and I want you to fuck it. Can you do that for me, baby?"

"Yes, sir," Peter says eagerly. He grasps the edges of the couch.

Stiles leans over and wraps his hand around Peter's wet cock. He mutters a spell that adds some more slick — he doesn't want his beautiful boy to chafe — and jacks him once, slowly. Peter's still and silent, holding his breath, eyes squeezed shut as if he can't take this much pleasure. Stiles knows it has to be overwhelming after so much teasing.

"Look at me," Stiles orders. Peter obeys. "Lift your hips and fuck my hand."

Peter's eyes are half-lidded and locked onto Stiles. He looks utterly debauched. His hair's in disarray, his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat and love bites. Stiles is tempted to pull out his own cock and stroke them together until Peter's covered in their come. 

The thought is swept away at the first stutter of Peter's hips. It's not easy to fuck someone else's hand when you aren't used to the motion. Peter may be inexperienced, but he’s absolutely beautiful as he finds the way to chase his pleasure.

"That's it," Stiles pets Peter's flank with his other hand. "You're doing so well, beautiful. You're so close, I can tell."

"Can I?" Peter's flushed and desperate. "Please can I come, sir?"

Stiles tightens his fist and smiles at the obscene sound of the lube. He leans over and captures Peter's whimpers with his mouth. "Come for me, baby."

Peter groans loudly and pistons his hips faster as Stiles steals his breath with a deep kiss. Then he pulls away so he can watch.

"Give it to me," Stiles whispers, focussing on Peter's face. Peter comes so hard he spurts to his chin.

Stiles grins and presses him down, stroking him through orgasm until he mews pitifully, oversensitive.

(One day Stiles will play with that. One day he won't stop until Peter's coming dry.)

"There's my good boy." Stiles kisses the come off Peter's chin. 

"My… my claws." Peter’s eyes widen in distress. Stiles looks down at Peter's hands and sees what’s wrong. The the couch has been gouged, Peter's claws emerging as he came. They're still out. 

Stiles brings a clawed hand to his face and kisses Peter's knuckles. "It's okay, baby. You didn't hurt anything important."

"The sofa?" 

Stiles puts his fingers to the holes Peter left and mends with magic. "Nothing I can't fix," he soothes. "It's good this happened now, with someone you can trust. I already know you're a werewolf, and we can work on it together. Okay? Your control slipped a little, that's all."

"What if I can't control it?" Peter asks worriedly. "What if I was holding onto _you_ when I-"

"Shh, baby, don't borrow trouble. Even if you'd hurt me, I would heal. But you didn't, and now we know it’s something we need to work on. It's not a big deal. You think you're the only werewolf this has happened to?" Peter still looks worried, so Stiles kisses him. "Put them away now, and let's get you cleaned up."

The distraction works. Peter retracts his claws and Stiles runs his fingers through Peter's come, feeding him drips from his fingertips. The way Peter sucks his fingers is sinful, and Stiles is even more determined to have that mouth around his cock soon.

Stiles summons a bottle of water from the kitchen (showing off again, since it takes more energy to use magic than to actually get the damn thing) and offers it to Peter. After drinking half of it, Stiles tells him to get dressed.

"I'm going to talk to Talia about the claw thing, but I promise, it's no big deal. Do you want to come with me when I see her?" Stiles walks Peter to the door.

"She's my alpha, I should be the one to go to her with it," Peter insists. 

"Would you feel better if I was there?" 

Peter shakes his head. "I don't think so."

Stiles gently kisses his forehead. "Okay, sweetheart. Call me or come over if you need me. You gonna let me know what she says?" Peter nods. "Good." Stiles considers telling Peter how he helped Scott with control, but he doubts Peter wants to be compared to a newly bitten werewolf. It does give him a reason to call Scott, though. Hopefully he can get some advice.

It's late when Peter finally leaves. Stiles wishes Peter could stay the night, cuddled up in his arms, but it's too early for that. Plus Stiles shouldn't encourage too much dependence when their contract will only last six weeks. 

Six weeks sounded like a long time when he first suggested it. Now, watching Peter leave and realizing the first week is almost passed, it seems like nowhere near enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter plops into the chair beside Talia, where she's cutting a banana for Cora. Richard serves him a plate, and Peter makes an apologetic face. "Sorry I didn't help make breakfast." 

Richard shrugs. "Not a problem. It's just eggs this morning, with some toast and fruit if you want it."

"I want this fruit!" Cora exclaims, apparently vetoing banana as she reaches for a slice of melon on her mother's plate.

Peter blinks and looks around the table. He came into the kitchen in a daze, but he realizes everyone is present.

Talia and Richard, of course. Cora is in her booster seat and Laura and Derek are in the corner, fighting over what looks like a Darth Vader action figure. Richard's mother, Elpha, is gently scolding her husband Alex for adding too much salt to his eggs. Alex is human, and the only other sub in the house. Peter has talked to him about things before, problems, concerns… but his humanity makes talking about Peter's current control problem irrelevant.

He's going to have to talk to Talia. 

He realizes eyes are on him, and when he looks up, Alex is grinning. "Got some nice hickies there. Did he magic those to stay?"

Peter flushes and his hand moves up to cover one of the love bites on his neck. "Yeah." He’s both pleased and embarrassed. He's proud of the marks, but this is his family, after all. 

Elpha narrows her eyes and points her fork at Peter. "That boy better be treating you right."

He nearly chokes on his orange juice. He's never thought of Stiles as a boy, and can't imagine someone else seeing him as one. Stiles is definitely all grown up. He's a full decade older than Peter.

Alex laughs. "If the hickeys and blush are anything to go by, I'd say Peter's being treated just fine."

Peter regrets coming down to breakfast. It'd be impossible to slip out undetected now, though. Everyone’s looking at him, even the children.

"I've got cantaloupe, strawberries, and banana," Richard says, as if nothing's happened. "You want any?"

"Strawberries are fine." Peter straightens in his seat, so grateful for Richard's nonchalance. The change in atmosphere gives him a chance to nudge his sister. "I need to talk to you later."

Talia looks him over and nods. "After breakfast."

The rest of the meal is uneventful. The kids are talking about school, which starts in a week. Cora is especially happy, as she's starting kindergarten. Peter's relieved to be starting his senior year because it means he's that much closer to graduation.

Peter's situation is weird. He's Talia's beta, and her brother, though he's been treated like another of her children for years now. Add his submissive nature to the mix, and there are so many blurred lines it's a miracle he's survived without any major incident.

Peter eats, and stays after he finishes. Alex gives a wink on his way out, making Peter quirk a smile. Elpha runs her hand through his hair, scent marking him, before she picks up Cora and carries her out. He feels a burst of affection toward her. Derek and Laura walk out, previous hostilities forgotten. They're headed outside, and part of Peter wants to follow.

When Richard starts clearing the table and Peter moves to help, Richard just waves him off. "Go with your sister and have your talk."

"I'll make lunch?" 

Richard shrugs. "Or you can help with dinner tonight, instead. I'm making ravioli and could use the extra hands." Richard's ravioli is stuffed with ground venison and spices, made by hand. Peter still doesn't know everything. Richard won't give him the recipe yet, but maybe that will change tonight.

Peter gives an enthusiastic grin. "I'll be here."

"Come with me." Talia leads him to her office, which is soundproofed and private. She sits in one of the overstuffed chairs beside Peter, and waits for him to speak. 

It takes a few minutes, but he finally comes out with it. "I lost control of my claws last night."

"Was anyone hurt?" Talia doesn't seem concerned.

"Just Stiles's sofa, but he fixed that," Peter says. "But still. I lost control and that's not like me. I never… that hasn't happened in years."

"What was happening when you lost control?" Talia asks as she leans toward him.

Peter blushes, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn't look at her. "Um."

"Were you having sex?" Talia sounds fond and knowing.

Peter splutters. "No! Not… not really? I may have had an orgasm, though." The last words are muttered lowly. He knows she'll hear.

Talia gives a snort he can't decipher. "Were you alone?"

"No, I was with Stiles…" Peter frowns, not sure what she’s getting at.

"Sounds like sex to me," Talia says with an amused smile. 

Peter rolls his eyes. "Okay. But… my hands shifted and I couldn't control them."

"Right." Talia leans over and picks up a book off her desk. There are papers sticking out of it here and there, and Talia thumbs through until she opens the book and points. _"Trouble controlling the shift is a common problem among all werewolves as they begin exploring their dynamic, but this loss of control comes with additional concerns for werewolf submissives, and requires a multidimensional approach which should include their dominant partner, as they may able to offer additional support."_

"That's in there?" Peter says.

Talia sighs. "I thought you read this cover to cover. There's an entire section on controlling your shift."

Peter frowns. "I didn't think that applied to me. I thought it was for bitten wolves, not… I haven't had control issues since puberty."

"I think you should take this back and read chapter two." Talia hands him the book and he takes it, feeling sheepish. "But… I want you to know it's not just subs who deal with this. The first time I experienced a rush from domming, I went into full beta shift. I didn't even realize at first. My sub was blindfolded and couldn't tell me, but I was in a playroom with mirrored walls. I scared myself at the time, let out a yelp you wouldn't believe."

Peter can't help but break into laughter. Talia joins easily.

"It's easy to laugh about it now, but at the time I was so embarrassed. I had a talk with mom, and we figured out something that would help, but I don't think they'd help you. This is a different issue, though it may seem the same on the surface. I just… I want you to know you're not the only one this happens to." 

"Thanks," Peter says, his eyes on Talia. "I mean, Stiles didn't seem to think it was a big deal and you don't… maybe I'm making it out to be bigger than it is."

"Read the book and talk it over with Stiles," she says. "And… thank you for coming to me with this. I'm glad to have an answer for you."

* * *

The first thing Stiles says to Scott when the Skype call connects is, "Dude, I'm so fucked."

Scott tries to hide a smile and nods. "The new sub?"

"Peter." Stiles sighs and ignores Scott's twitching lips. "He's… great? Beautiful. Amazing. And I'm thinking already about how I want to extend our contract when we haven't even gotten through the first week."

"How does he feel about you?" Scott asks.

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. "...I'm worried he's already too attached."

"No, man, you're worried _you're_ too attached." Scott always seems to get right to the heart of the matter. And Stiles appreciates that he's not laughing outright.

"You're right. But this kid, he looks at me like I hung the moon." Which is a problem. Scott needs to understand this.

"How old is he?" Scott asks with a tilt of his head.

"Not quite eighteen," Stiles answers. "I think his birthday is in a month." It is. Exactly one month.

"Okay. Kinda young, but you know what you're doing, right?" Scott asks.

Stiles laughs and scrubs at his hair. "Um, no?"

"Stiles," Scott says seriously, leaning forward. "You know what you're doing. You're an experienced Dom, you're a badass Spark, and you've got your life in order. You know what's going on, and you know how to deal with shit when it comes up. So what's the problem?"

_What if I fall in love with him?_ Stiles sighs. Scott gives him a look like he always does, like he can read his mind and knows exactly what he's thinking.

"You want my advice?" Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "Yeah, but not about this. Look, last night Peter's claws popped, and he was really upset about losing control like that. You got any special insight?"

Scott's face brightens. "I know this one, actually. He's… giving over control, right? To you. It's your responsibility. It probably won't happen if he's hit subspace, but if he's overwhelmed, gets too much of a good thing, then it's fangs and claws. Or that's how it is with me, anyway."

"This was just the claws, and yeah, he was overwhelmed. I mean, in a good way," Stiles clarifies.

Scott laughs. "That's what I meant."

Stiles chews at his thumb. "So it's normal?"

"Oh, yeah. It's gonna happen." Scott shrugs goodnaturedly. "And when it first started happening to me, I was freaking out about it, and if Peter's had good control up until now, he'll probably be freaking, too. You just… you gotta talk him through it, man. You're the Dom. You're in charge. Let him know that."

Stiles blinks. "You think my sub doesn't know I'm in control?"

Scott blows out a frustrated breath. "I just mean let him know it's okay. You've got this. He can lose it and give it over to you, right?"

"I'm not sure I understand what you're saying, Scott."

Scott gives him a look. It's not a very happy one. "I'm disappointed. I know you're smarter than this."

"What?"

"It's about control. Submitting is about giving up control. If he submits, if he gives up control, he might wolf out. Got it?"

"He didn't do it during our first scene," Stiles says, but he's thinking.

Scott shrugs. "Maybe he wasn't overwhelmed. It takes a specific frame of mind. But the thing is, Peter needs to know he's in your hands. That it’s safe to give up control, and if that means his claws or fangs pop out, or hell, he goes full beta, then… you've got this. It's okay."

Stiles nods thoughtfully. "Got it. Thanks, man."

Scott leans forward again, like he really wants Stiles to listen. "Hey. You're a good Dom. Peter's lucky."

"Flatterer." Stiles scoffs but this has been a help.

"And stop worrying about how you feel," Scott says with a smile too close to a smirk for comfort. "If it's meant to be, it's gonna be, whether you're fighting it every step of the the way or not."

"I'm not fighting anything, I'm just…" Stiles holds up his hands.

"Worried. So stop," Scott says earnestly. "I know you aren't a romantic person-"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "Understatement."

"-but sometimes love is a thing that just happens."

"Did I mention that word at all? You know where I asked for your advice? I take it back."

Scott makes a rude noise. "You're such a child."

"You're the one making fart noises at me," Stiles grumbles.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles goes up to the house for dinner, and is treated to the most delicious ravioli he's ever had. Richard smiles at the compliment while Peter beams. After, Peter walks back to the cottage with him.

Once inside, Stiles backs him against the wall — slowly, so Peter has a chance to opt out — and kisses him breathless. Kissing Peter is fast becoming one of Stiles's favorite things. Peter throws his arms around Stiles's shoulders, holding tightly. He makes delicious noises: breathy sighs, soft moans, and even softer whimpers.

He's perfect, really. Everything Stiles could possibly want in a sub or a lover. "I've wanted to kiss you all day." 

Peter gives him a dazed smile. "Me too."

Stiles is tempted to kiss the boy all night, but he knows they have things to discuss. "Did you talk to your sister about the claws?"

Peter nods. "She pointed out something I hadn't considered because my control is usually so good. But…" 

Stiles watches Peter trail off and nods. "It's okay. I talked to my best friend, Scott? He's a Bitten sub."

"There aren't many of those that I can think of." Peter frowns.

Stiles plays with the hair at the nape of Peter's neck. "From what I can tell, human subs don't usually want to be werewolves. It's the control aspect, I think. Which brings us to our current situation."

Peter bites his lip. "I want to be good for you," he says, "and that means giving you control. But if I do, I might slip up like before."

Stiles wraps arms around him and strokes his hair. Peter lets out a shuddering breath and sags against him. "I want to be good," Peter repeats.

"Baby, you are," Stiles reassures. "You have been. I promise. Losing control of your shift doesn't change that."

"You didn't seem mad, but what if I do and… what if you don't like it?"

Stiles pulls back a little and frowns. "What do you mean?"

Peter shrugs. "Maybe the claws are okay, but the rest… it's not like the beta shift is pretty."

Stiles shakes his head. "I don't care, I want you every way you come. And… that sounded dirty…" Peter's lips quirk. Score. "Want me to prove it?" 

"How do you mean?"

"Shift for me." 

"Right now? Here?" Peter looks adorably confused.

"Hmm, no," Stiles says, and takes Peter's hand. "Let's go into my room."

Peter follows easily as Stiles leads him into the bedroom. It's decorated in dark blues, something Stiles's magic seemed to pick for itself. Stiles knows the color matches Peter's eyes but he isn't going to dwell on that.

Stiles strips out of his shirt. He loves the way Peter's eyes travel up and down his arms, over his torso and chest, as he takes in Stiles's physique and tattoos. It's heady to have such a reverent gaze on him. 

Peter seems to snap out of it after a long moment. "Do you want me to strip too?"

"If you like." Stiles can practically see the thoughts tumbling in Peter's head.

"Okay." Peter strips down to his briefs. They're dark blue again. Stiles likes that he's wearing them.

"Good boy," Stiles murmurs. Having Peter think ahead, dress for him just in case, is very pleasing.

Peter flushes with the praise. "I know you like me in them."

"I do. You're so pretty in those tight pants," Stiles says, walking closer and palming Peter's ass. He circles Peter to press against his back, one hand resting at his hip now while the other travels from his navel to his throat. "Beautiful."

Peter shivers all over. When Stiles presses against the biggest mark on his neck, he goes lax in Stiles's arms. "Yours," Peter breathes. Stiles still hears him.

He's glad he's behind Peter, that the sub can't see his face. Stiles feels a pulse of heat run through him, possessiveness and a furious sense of _right_. His eyes close, and he knows if he was a werewolf, he might howl his triumph.

Stiles has to stand there for a moment, silently running his fingertips over Peter's pulse, before he can speak again. "Get on the bed, baby," he says hoarsely. "On your back so I can see you."

* * *

Peter moves on instinct, obeying without question. He lies on the bed, on sheets that smell like Stiles. He feels shameless, uninhibited.

"Shift for me, sweetheart."

Peter frowns but unsheathes his claws. He's careful, resting them lightly on the bed. 

Stiles straddles him, moving easily to place Peter's hands on his thighs. "Here, like this. Now… the rest."

Peter bares his fangs. He hates looking like this in front of humans, has never had a good reaction, but Stiles is asking it of him and his heart is steady, his scent free of fear. He looks the same — focused, intent. Curious. 

Stiles leans down and cups Peter's face with both hands. "No, I want it all. Shift for me, baby."

Peter looks up at him and nods before transitioning into a full beta shift. He doesn't look away, even when his vision goes too-sharp. He's looking for reluctance, maybe disgust. But it doesn't come. Stiles smiles and Peter breathes a little easier.

"You're beautiful," Stiles says. His heartbeat is steady. 

Peter is suddenly overcome with emotion. The relief is strong, as is the wonder. The warmth in his chest when Stiles leans down and kisses his brow ridge is something he's never felt before.

But Peter is still concerned. "What if I hurt you?"

"Unless you're angry or you feel threatened, I don't think you're going to attack. Right?" 

"Well, no," Peter says. "But I could hurt you accidentally."

Stiles runs a hand through Peter's hair. He leans down and kisses his cheeks, one after the other. "Baby, you can't hurt me. I'm human, but I'm powerful. I could hold you down, restrain you, heal myself… it's okay."

"But it's not always going to be you," Peter says quietly. He hates to say it, but Stiles isn't going to be his Dom forever. This is temporary. One day he'll have another Dom, and they won't be a Spark.

Stiles leans back and looks at him. "Okay." He has a look on his face Peter doesn't know how to read. "You could make sure your Doms have a plan, like the one we went over. Remember? We know what to do if one of us loses control." Peter nods. Stiles kisses him gently. "And you could choose Doms who are more resilient. Other shifters or supernaturals," Stiles suggests.

Peter wants to say he doesn't want another Dom, but he doesn't want to scare Stiles away. It's too early to talk about long-term contracts. Peter knows he's young and uncollared, that he has his life ahead of him. At least, Stiles would probably tell him that.

"Okay?" 

"I needed to make sure," Peter says.

Stiles puts his hands on Peter's chest, thumbs running over his nipples. "I know. You're responsible like that."

Peter laughs breathlessly. "Not really. Just… don't want to fuck up."

"Mistakes aren't the same as fucking up." Privately, he thinks _fucking up is what Talia did when she didn't listen to a sub in her care_ , but that's just his inner asshole rearing its head. "And you're allowed to make mistakes."

Peter smiles, looking happier. "Thank you, sir."

"Any more questions?" Stiles leans down to lick at Peter's now-bared neck.

"Hngh. No." Peter feels his eyes roll back.

Stiles hums and bites gently, making Peter twitch and moan. "I love when you make those sounds."

"Can I shift back now?"

* * *

Stiles looks into Peter's beta-gold eyes. "I don't want you to."

Peter frowns. Sort of. Maybe. Hard to tell with no eyebrows. "Really?"

"Baby, you're perfect like this."

Peter gives Stiles a sweet, fangy smile. Stiles makes a decision and moves off and to the side, rolling so he's facing Peter. "I'm going to hold you for a while."

"While I'm like this?" Peter's voice goes up, obviously surprised.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it." Stiles tugs Peter into his arms, and Peter goes easily, resting his forehead against Stiles's chest. "Just like this."

Peter curls his hands gently between them, careful of his claws.

"You won't hurt me," Stiles reminds him in a murmur. He runs a fingertip over one of Peter's pointed ears, just to see his reaction.

"Tickles," Peter grumbles, but it's half-hearted. He moves into the touches, especially when Stiles strokes his hair. He tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and like this it seems a more powerful submission.

Stiles moves to thumb over Peter's pulse. "You're so good for me."

Peter moans and presses closer. His cock is hard, the head peeking over the edge of his briefs. 

"So pretty," Stiles breathes, and tilts Peter's head to kiss him. He shifts so he can drag his lips down Peter's throat, bare except for the mark from the night before. Stiles slides a hand down Peter's back to knead his ass.

Peter moans loudly, hips stuttering against Stiles's thigh.

"You can do that. Can you get off like this? Rut against my thigh until you come?" Stiles asks huskily. He snaps at the back of Peter's briefs before slipping his hand inside them, feeling the heat of Peter's skin. 

"Please," Peter whines. He rolls his hips, grinding against Stiles again. Humping his thigh. Stiles wedges his leg between Peter's to give him more friction.

"Please what, baby? You want me to touch your hole? Would you like that, sweetheart?" He drags his teeth against Peter's throat, making him whimper for more. "I'm not gonna fuck you yet, but I want to touch. See how ready you are for me."

Peter's panting now. One hand goes down to his underwear and he slits the side with his claws, ripping them away. 

Stiles laughs, absolutely delighted. "So eager." He rubs his fingers together and concentrates, conjuring some lube before sliding a finger down Peter's smooth crack and over his tight asshole. Peter positively writhes against him, making Stiles want to hold him down and... He quells that impulse for the moment and concentrates on dragging more responses from his boy.

Peter brings a knee up to Stiles's waist, giving him easy access. "Please, will you…"

Stiles bites gently at Peter's neck, causing Peter to jerk and moan again. "What's that?"

"Inside me," Peter says, breathless. "Please, sir?"

Stiles rubs over Peter's hole teasingly. "Have you done this to yourself, sweetheart? Ever finger-fucked your pretty hole?"

Peter whines and nods, rocking back against Stiles's hand.

Stiles has a moment where he wonders if he should make Peter go still, but decides he likes the desperate wiggling too much. His own cock is rock hard, and he knows Peter can feel it, trapped between their bodies. It would be so easy to flip Peter over and _take_ him.

But he'd much rather have him like this for now. Slow. Careful. With Peter begging for anything he'll give.

"Kiss me," Stiles demands, and Peter obeys. Stiles kisses him hard, mindful of the fangs but demanding entrance. His tongue fucks into Peter's mouth as his finger presses inside. It's so tight, the ring of muscle squeezing around his finger, before taking him the rest of the way easily. Just like that. Hungry.

"Stiles," Peter whines. Presses back. Presses forward with his cock. He's deliciously trapped, and Stiles wants to keep him just like this.

"It's okay, baby." Stiles presses another slick finger in alongside the first. For a moment not sure if Peter’s ready for more, but he is. Stiles fucks him with two, and Peter groans and writhes, greedy. Stiles kisses him. "Take what you need," he says, twisting and curling his fingers toward Peter's prostate.

Peter jerks and then grinds back against Stiles's hand, moaning.

"You like being filled, baby?"

And then Peter ruts forward, cock rubbing against Stiles's thigh. "Oh, god," Peter whispers.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Fuck yourself for me." Stiles pulls his fingers out an inch or so, enough for Peter to protest and rock back again.

It doesn't last long. Peter's overwhelmed, Stiles can see that, and he's obviously choosing being fucked over rutting, though he goes back to that every now and then. He likes Stiles's fingers in his ass, likes when they go deep, enough to moan and whimper and try to get them _deeper_.

"Such a good boy," Stiles whispers, and Peter loses it, coming all over them both. 

Stiles doesn't pull away just yet. Instead, he plays with the rim where it's sensitive and a little swollen. He wants to put his tongue on it, but that's for another day. Peter whimpers softly and Stiles withdraws his hand.

That’s enough for now.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this posted Sunday but stuff happened. Namely, Irma, and I was a little preoccupied. Thankfully nothing bad happened except for a few branches dropping in the yard, needing to be moved. 
> 
> I hope you like this!

Peter doesn't spend all his free time with Stiles, but he spends as much as he can. But he has to go to school, and hanging out with Stiles, sitting at his feet while he makes phone calls or jots down notes on whatever project he's doing for Talia — it's going to be put on hold. He's asked if he can do his homework at Stiles's once it starts rolling in, but Talia said no.

Something about getting distracted.

So Peter starts back to school hoping to power through the day and his homework so he can get back to Stiles. His classes aren't challenging, but then, they never are. He's taking Dynamics again, though there’s a new teacher this year. Ms. Blake is a druid, and the first submissive teaching Dynamics Peter's ever had. His past Dynamics teachers have been Doms, so this could be interesting. She's also teaching Creative Writing, which Peter also signed up for, so he has her for two periods.

He hopes she's tolerable. He hears some freshman girls talk about seeing her in town with her partner, a 'stunning' werewolf Domme. Someone else says Ms. Blake is probably an Emissary. 

Peter has mixed feelings about Emissaries. The Hale pack used to have a permanent Emissary, but he quit a year ago. It's one of the reasons Talia invited Stiles to help her with something — as a freelancer, Stiles can do almost everything a permanent one can. Peter's not sure of his limitations, though he can't think a Spark would have many, if he had any at all.

Thinking about Stiles's status as a Spark and what he can do gets Peter in trouble on his first day. He’s daydreaming, not paying attention, and gets called on to answer a question. He doesn't get detention, but the class laughs at him and Peter hates it.

That's just first period. 

He doesn't really have any friends. No one meets his standards, though there are a few he doesn't hate entirely. Most of the student body either avoid him, or try to pick on him. He's a werewolf and a sub, a statistical rarity, and it makes him stand out.

He forgot Stiles refreshed his hickey until he's reminded in the worst way possible: when he sits down in Dynamics class, someone calls him on it. It would be one thing if it was gentle teasing — he's used to that from his family. But his family doesn't say any of _this_.

"How does it stay?" "Maybe he's a defective healer." "Maybe something's wrong with sub shifters."

Peter is glaring and about to unleash a scathing retort when Ms. Blake enters. She passes his desk and glances at him, then smiles. Peter can smell her earthy magic as she walks past. 

Someone near the back, a few seats down, keeps whispering and laughing. But the joke’s on them, because Peter's not embarrassed. He's proud of the mark on his neck, proud his Dom is a Spark. He's not cowed by the ridiculous gossip, he's pissed.

He feels like ripping some heads off. Or maybe clawing through some ribcages.

He closes his eyes and focuses on his anchor. His pack. His sister, his brother-in-law. His nephew and nieces. The rest of the pack, Elpha and Alex. And Stiles, who isn't technically pack but feels like it. When he opens his eyes, he sees Ms. Blake watching him. He nods, and she quirks a smile. Her eyes then roam over the rest of the class and she clears her throat. 

"Hello. I'm Ms. Blake and this is Dynamics for Seniors. If you're not a senior this year, you're in the wrong class. If you think this will be an easy A, or that I'll be especially lenient because of my dynamic, you're also in the wrong class but I'd love for you to stay. I'll accept drop slips for one week, and then you're locked in. This Dynamics class, unlike the others, is not compulsory. You should have learned what the school board believes you need to know in your Freshman, Sophomore, and Junior Dynamics classes, but this isn't a review, it's advanced. Much of what you learn here is covered in more detail in university Dynamics Studies courses. If you're interested and like what you find here, I urge you to seek out those courses when you go on to higher education."

Peter's already forgotten about the whispers. He can't wait to find out what this class will cover.

* * *

"You don't have to knock," Stiles tells Peter when he opens the door that evening. "You can just walk in if the door's unlocked. Which it always will be for you."

Peter smiles, and steps closer. "And hugs are always free?"

Stiles wraps his arms around Peter, pulling him close. "Always."

"What if I come to you in the middle of the night?" Peter snuggles against him. "Do I just walk in then, too?"

"Yes. I know you respect my space and time, and wouldn't show up for no good reason."

"Is missing you a good reason?" Peter asks quietly.

Stiles pulls back and looks at him. "Of course it is."

Peter's lips quirk. "So if I just walked right in at two in the morning, and crawled into bed with you, what would you do?"

"I would hold you and make sure you're okay," Stiles says seriously. He knows Peter is testing him, and he has to be honest. Stiles has boundaries, but he's not going to turn his sub away if Peter comes to him needy.

"You really would," Peter murmurs, awed. Then he smiles, bright and happy. "I really am lucky to have you."

"Well, I'm awesome." Stiles hugs Peter again and presses a kiss to his hair. "So come inside, sit down, and tell me all about your first day as a senior."

They end up on the sofa, Stiles upright with Peter's head in his lap. Stiles strokes Peter's hair as he talks.

"I don't like getting that angry," Peter admits after describing the beginning of Dynamics. 

"All of us get angry, sweetheart. And it sounds like you handled yourself just fine." Stiles runs his hand down Peter's back to soothe him. "I'm proud of you."

"I think Ms. Blake knew how pissed off I was. Are druids empathic?"

"Hmm. Some. But it was probably just good observation. And as a sub, she was probably more in tune with the other subs in the room. Though as a druid, she may have felt your energy."

"Like you do?"

"Yes, though it's a little different as a Spark. Stronger, I think." Stiles plays with a lock of Peter's hair. 

"You're powerful." Peter turns closer to Stiles's body and inhales deeply. "I can smell it sometimes. Your magic. I love it."

Stiles knows his boy likes his magic, that it’s one of the things that drew Peter to him in the first place. He doesn't mind. It's a part of him. "Did your teacher smell like magic?"

"Mhm. Earth magic, though. Not like yours."

"What does mine smell like, baby?" Stiles asks. Scott's told him how it smells to him, but he's honestly curious about Peter's answer, specifically. 

Peter tilts his head and looks up into Stiles's face. His eyes shine when he says, "Like wild things."

Stiles grins and snaps his teeth at him. "Then we have that in common. You feel wild to me, too."

"Like a thing you want to tame?" 

Such an innocent. If he knew half the things Stiles wants to do to him… Well, he'd probably get excited. Stiles shakes his head. "I like you wild."

"You haven't seen me during the full moon. You might change your mind." Peter gives him a smirk and sits up.

"It's less than a week away." Stiles is excited. "I guess we find out then."

Peter smiles. "Are you spending the moon with my pack, then?"

"Talia's already invited me to run with you." Stiles grins, thinking about it.

"Really?" Peter blinks. "That's… wow. She doesn't do that much."

Stiles got that feeling when Talia asked, but now it's confirmed. "Then I'm honored. What do you usually do?"

"Run. Hunt. Play… though sometimes our playing looks like fighting." Peter frowns. "Are you sure you want to come?"

"Your pack isn't the first I've been around," Stiles says. "Scott's pack likes to roughhouse, too. You won’t scare me away, stop worrying."

"How do you always know what I'm thinking?" Peter asks, though he doesn't sound concerned. More curious, and a little awed.

"That one was easy." Stiles leans over to drop a kiss on Peter's forehead. "Tell me more about today. You said Ms. Blake is teaching two of your classes. What's the other one?"

"Creative Writing." Peter smiles at the kiss. " She handed out journals that we're supposed to write in every class, for the first ten minutes."

"That's a good idea," Stiles says. "And it reminds me of one I had for the two of us. But I'll ask you about that later. Tell me more about school."

Peter sighs. "Not much to say. All the classes seem easy except for Dynamics, because I don't know what to expect from that one yet."

"What about… friends?" Stiles feels hesitant to bring it up, but he's outwardly confident. He keeps his voice even. "I know you've said before you don't really have them, but maybe this year you could change that."

"Why would I want to?" Peter scoffs, but Stiles can tell by the way he wraps his arms around himself that he's lonely, maybe hurt. "Everyone at school is… boring."

"Because having friends is healthy, and it's nice to have people other than your family you can talk to."

Peter shrugs. "I have you."

Stiles smiles. "You do. But this is your last year of high school. There's going to be all kinds of activities for seniors that might be fun if you have people to share the experience with." Peter gives him a dubious look so Stiles lets it go. "Just think about it. It's not an order or anything. I just think it would be a good thing for you to try to expand your social circle."

Peter's quiet for a bit. Then, "What did you want to tell me about?"

"Oh!" Stiles is happy to be reminded. "I'd like us to use a journal. Or maybe two: one we write in together and one that's just for you. You're still new to scenes and subbing for someone other than your sister. I think if you write down your thoughts and impressions, it'll let you see your progress and maybe help you through some things if you need to work any out."

"What about the one we write in together?" 

"We can use it to keep track of how we feel about our scenes, or our everyday interactions. We could also write letters back and forth — sometimes that's easier than talking about things, but it's still communicating." 

Peter smiles. "I like that, I think."

"And I'm serious about you having a submission journal that's just for you," Stiles tells him seriously. "You can work things out in there before writing a letter to me, if something was important and you needed to work out how to tell me."

Stiles has thought about this a lot. Peter should do well with journaling.

"So I'm going to be writing in three different places, is what you're telling me," Peter says. "At school, in my submission journal, and our shared one?"

"Only if you want to," Stiles says carefully. "It's a suggestion. It would make me happy if you did , but if you don't want to, I won't make you. Except possibly as a punishment, if you earned one."

"Can I try it and see how it goes?" Peter worries his bottom lip with his teeth. 

"Okay. One more thing--your birthday is in three weeks. Anything special you’d like to celebrate?"

Peter rolls so his face is buried against Stiles's stomach, hiding his face. He’s embarrassed, but Stiles likes that he's hiding in him, not away. It makes him feel like they're definitely on the right track together. 

"Do you want to write me a letter about it?" Stiles thinks this is the perfect opportunity to see how the shared journal works for them. Peter huffs. His breath is warm, even through the fabric of Stiles’s shirt. Stiles pets the back of his head. "However you want to tell me is okay," Stiles promises.

Peter relaxes into his touch. "I'll let you know."


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to get out!
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely Twisted_Mind

"When I finish with the crop, I'm going to put my mouth on you." Peter can't wait. He's not sure if he's more excited for the crop or the aftermath. Stiles continues. "I’m going to spank you with my hand to get you warmed up."

Peter nods eagerly. "Green. That means go, sir."

Stiles laughs. "What's your safeword, baby?"

Peter rolls his eyes, but answers. "Reese's."

"And mine is Roscoe. Good. Now… I'll spank you over my knee. You can move into a new position after, for the cropping." Peter already knows this. They negotiated the scene the day before, in detail. Peter knows what's coming. He thinks Stiles just likes to go over it to be thorough.

Peter moves forward, ready to get started, but Stiles stops him. "In my room and strip, baby. I don't want a stitch left on you."

Peter nods and heads to the bedroom, but Stiles doesn't follow. "You coming?" 

"Go ahead and strip," Stiles calls, "I'll be there in a minute."

Peter knows Stiles can strip him with magic, which means this is part of the process. So Peter undresses and waits, anticipation building. He winds up kneeling beside the bed to center himself. Stiles isn't taking long, but it feels that way. Peter's jittery with nerves and need.

By the time Stiles gets to the bedroom, Peter's breathing slowly to control his excitement. Stiles is fully dressed. He doesn't look like he'll be taking anything off, either, and Peter loves how that makes him feel when he's on his knees, completely bare.

"You're beautiful like this," Stiles says as he sits on the bed. There’s a crop in his hand, but he puts it aside. "Lay over my lap, baby."

Peter eyes Stiles's position on the bed and tries balancing over his thighs. It's not a familiar position, and it takes a lot of wriggling around to get settled.

"Your belly on my thighs, there you go. Brace your hands on the floor, tell me how that feels." 

Peter's strong and it's not like it's a hardship, but the position isn't comfortable. Stiles seems to pick up on his discomfort before he can speak. "Okay, let's try it another way. Hop up a minute." Peter gets up and Stiles readjusts. This time, he sits close to the headboard and motions to the space on the bed where Peter can lie down. "How about this? Nice and comfy while I tan your pretty ass."

Peter answers by crawling onto Stiles's lap and melting, arms crossed under his head and ass perked up.

"Perfect, baby." Stiles runs one hand through Peter's hair while the other rests on his lower back. Peter shimmies his hips. Stiles laughs. "Such an eager boy."

Peter hides his blush. He loves being called eager, wants to hear it again and again. He wonders what it would be like if and when Stiles calls him something else. Something…

He's going to write it down in his letter. He's going to write about this moment in his journal and tell Stiles that's what he wants for his birthday. Well, part of it. He has so many ideas.

"You with me, baby?" Stiles palms the swell of Peter's ass.

"Yes, sir," Peter whispers, anticipation rising. 

"Good. Don't want you missing out because you were daydreaming," Stiles teases, and then lands a swat on Peter's left buttock.

It's light. Pleasant. Peter wants more.

"Have I told you what a lovely ass you have? And not just your ass. I wish you could see yourself like this. Maybe I should get a mirror…" He trails off and makes a soft sound.

Peter smells the magic first. There's a shimmer in the air by his head, and … it's not a mirror, more like a camera projection. He's seeing himself from Stiles's point of view: a long, lean expanse of skin over Stiles's lap. 

He inhales quickly, not knowing what to say.

"You see?" Stiles runs a hand from Peter's nape to his ass. "All of this is mine right now. "

It's almost too much to process, but Stiles distracts him with another smack. And another. Peter closes his eyes and thrills at the feeling, Stiles's palm against his skin, the sounds of Stiles's hand on his flesh.

"I can't wait to see how you react to the crop." 

When Peter opens his eyes, the projection is gone, which he's grateful for, though he wonders what Stiles sees. Especially because Peter's writhing and moaning, his cock hard against Stiles's thigh. He doesn't think he's allowed to rut, though Stiles hasn't said.

"I know you’re hard," Stiles says, sounding sympathetic. "But you're gonna be good for me and hold off, wait to come until I let you."

"Yes, sir," Peter says, muffled in his arms again. He likes the idea of Stiles controlling when he comes, was interested when Stiles asked about it during their negotiation.

Stiles spanks him again, but Peter wants more. Wants it to sting like the flogger, even though he knows the crop will be different.

He picks up his head. "Can I have the crop now, sir?"

Stiles runs a hand over Peter's ass. "Not yet, baby. I'll tell you when you're ready." And then he starts striking Peter's ass harder than he was previously, and the sting starts to turn into something else. 

The sting is far away now, only the heat left in its wake. Peter likes it so much he forgets about the upcoming cropping. He lies in Stiles's lap and floats, the warmth travelling through his whole body. 

"How're you feeling, sweetheart?" Stiles asks. His voice sounds far away.

Peter tries to roll closer to his warmth. "Mmm, green."

Stiles laughs softly. "Such a sweet boy. I'm tempted to just leave off like this. You look happy."

Peter opens an eye. Turns his head. "More."

Stiles nods. "Okay, baby. You're gonna have to move for me."

It's difficult because Peter doesn't want to, and when he tries, he finds his body doesn't want to move, either, as if it has a mind of its own. But finally, after some pouting and Stiles laughing a little more, Peter is lying across some pillows, ass in the air. Stiles pets him, makes him feel happy and cared for.

The first snap of the crop isn't heavy, but the pain is bright. Then Stiles swings it harder and it cuts through Peter's haze.

"Ow."

"Ow isn't your safeword." Stiles gives him another light slap, which is fine, more of a tap, really. Then another. Tap, tap, tap, WHACK.

Peter yelps and knows he'd better say it now. "Yellow."

Stiles stops and runs his hand over where Peter's skin is feeling too hot. Burning, actually. "Too much, baby?"

"Hurts," Peter says. He swallows around his frustration. Of course it hurts. It's supposed to. But isn't he supposed to like it? He feels… let down. And worried that he's disappointed Stiles.

He hears Stiles put the crop down but isn't expecting Stiles to crawl onto the bed with him. He doesn’t expect the arm around him, but it’s keeping him grounded. "It's okay if you don't like the crop. It's a pretty intense feeling, and more localized than the flogger. You don't have to like everything, baby."

"I guess," Peter says.

"Do you want to just do what we were doing before?" Stiles asks. "You seemed to like the spanking."

"Can we?" He feels… small and vulnerable. Stiles runs a hand through his hair and makes him feel cared for again. Maybe even loved.

"You're so sweet. Of course we can." 

"'m sorry." Peter feels like he’s letting his Dom down.

"Shh, baby, no," Stiles whispers. He leans over and kisses Peter's forehead. "I know you don't feel good right now, but you have nothing to apologize for. So you don't like the crop. Maybe you're not as big a masochist as you expected. That's fine. There are tons of things we can do together that don't involve pain, okay?"

Peter listens to Stiles. He catches the subtext. "Am I dropping?" he asks, a little scared.

"I hope not, because that would suck. We'll do everything we can to keep that from happening, okay?"

Peter burrows closer. "Okay."

"You're so good, so sweet." Stiles kisses his face and pets his hair. "I'm gonna spank you and make you feel good again, and then I'm gonna eat you out. I can't wait. I bet your little ass tastes like candy."

He knows Stiles says it to make him laugh, but it works. He opens his eyes and sees Stiles smiling at him, and there’s so much affection in his eyes that it takes Peter's breath away.

"I'm going to heal the welts first." Stiles sits up so he can see what he's doing, laying a hand on Peter's ass. 

"I'll heal." But he still feels the burn, and he wants it gone so he can enjoy his spanking.

"That wasn't a question, baby," Stiles murmurs, and Peter feels a cool touch, like a damp cloth on his welts. Peter smells the wild, familiar scent of Stiles's magic, and then the burning is gone.

"Thank you, sir," Peter whispers.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." His heart is steady. Peter doesn't know how to take that, but he feels warm and safe. Stiles runs his fingertips down Peter's back and over his ass, just shy of tickling. "Do you want to get in my lap again?"

Peter nods. He liked it there, and he has the urge to stay close. He doesn't want Stiles to move away to spank him.

So they get back into their former position, and Stiles strokes gently over Peter's ass. Peter wiggles, but he doesn't demand Stiles start spanking. He likes this. Likes the attention Stiles is giving him.

"Color?" 

Peter smiles. "Green, sir."

"Good." Stiles lands a light tap on Peter's ass. Peter sighs happily.

Stiles is careful, building the intensity slowly, and Peter enjoys every moment of it. Every smack leads into the next, and Peter finds himself in awe at how gifted Stiles is at this.

Peter tries to tell him that, but it doesn't come out right. He's starting to float again. He's… well. Beyond speech. He's going to just enjoy himself.

"What, baby?" Stiles asks, laughter in his voice.

"All green," Peter says instead of repeating himself.

* * *

Stiles isn't disappointed in the way things have turned out. He was a little concerned when Peter first jolted out of subspace, not wanting his boy to drop. He knows it happens, and that there isn't always a way to prevent it, but right now he thinks it's okay. Peter's feeling good, riding the high, and Stiles feels pretty good, too.

God, Peter's perfect. The breathy moans he gives, the way he smiles and pushes back into Stiles's hand — he obviously loves it. And Stiles loves making him feel like this.

But Stiles wants to get his mouth on that ass, and he can't if Peter's too out of it to really appreciate it. So he tapers off and goes back to gently rubbing Peter's ass. Then he starts to talk, leading Peter back down to earth.

"You were so good for me, baby. You took your spanking so well. I'm proud of you." 

Peter hums in response. 

Stiles smiles to himself. "I already know what I'm going to put in our journal, baby. I'm going to talk about how amazing it is to make you fly. It makes me so proud, you just don't know."

Peter's cock is still hard. Stiles runs his fingertips gently down Peter's crack. "I'm going to take such good care of you." 

Peter sucks in a breath. Then he rubs against Stiles's thigh a little, definitely on purpose.

"You with me, baby?" Stiles asks. "You remember what we're doing?"

Peter's face is hidden in his arms, but the tips of his ears go red as he nods. It's so cute.

"You wanna move so I can take care of you?" Stiles teases.

Peter rolls, shimmies, and crawls so he's on pillows again.

"I love it when you're eager for me." Something about it makes Peter shiver. Stiles wonders why.

Peter gives another impatient wiggle. "Please?" 

Stiles kneels behind him and grins. "Okay, baby. Let's see what you have for me. Reach back here and hold yourself open for me. I want to look first."

Peter makes an embarrassed whine, but obeys. His fingertips dig into his flesh as he holds himself, and Stiles gets a good look at his tight hole. His mouth waters at the thought of teasing it open with his tongue.

"You look good enough to eat," Stiles says playfully. Peter huffs a laugh and relaxes just in time for Stiles to lick a flat stripe over his hole.

Peter inhales sharply, and melts into the bed as Stiles does it again. And again. Peter's so good holding himself, even though he's embarrassed. Stiles intends to reward him.

Stiles experiments. He wants to learn what gets Peter going, to hear the kind of breathy moans that mean Peter's really enjoying himself. Stiles points his tongue and teases the tight bud, and when it unfurls (god, he's waxing poetic now) he flicks around the rim before giving Peter a nice, deep kiss. 

Peter moans wantonly as Stiles pushes his tongue deeper. His boy rocks back against Stiles's face and it makes him laugh, loving how uninhibited and sweet Peter is.

He pulls back a little, just to hear Peter whine. "You make such pretty noises for me. And you're so hungry for it. Want me to tongue-fuck your little hole?"

"Yes, sir," Peter begs breathlessly.

"I wonder if I can make you come just from this," Stiles muses, making Peter moan again.

"Please? Please, more, sir." His grip tightens where he's still holding himself open.

"You're being so good for me," Stiles murmurs, and gets back to rimming his boy. It's messy, saliva everywhere, and Stiles wonders how much better it would be if Peter was freshly fucked, Stiles's come leaking out. The image makes him moan as he continues, and Peter gasps at the vibration.

It's easy to lose himself. Peter's so responsive, and it's addictive. Stiles tracks every moan and gasp, zeroing in on the loudest reactions. He goes after what Peter's body wants, licking and fucking with his tongue until Peter starts to lose his grip.

"It’s okay baby, you can let go," Stiles tells him, replacing Peter's hands with his own. He runs his fingertips over Peter's spanked-red ass, making him twitch. 

Peter grips his pillow and gives overwhelmed sobs when Stiles goes back to his hole. He's so sensitive and creamy inside now, jolting when Stiles's stubble rubs wetly over his perineum, but moaning and rocking back for more.

"Oh please, please," Peter whines, and Stiles takes mercy on him.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" Stiles runs his hands over Peter's thighs. He feels just as eager as his boy. "Just from this? You're so eager for it, love having your pretty hole played with."

"Yessss." Peter sounds like he's close to crying from desperation.

Stiles gives it all he's got, and it pays off. Peter comes, body seizing up jerking before he goes boneless. 

"Good boy," Stiles murmurs, resting his face against Peter's lower back. 

Peter starts giggling. 

"I'm glad you're feeling good, baby." Stiles crawls up the bed, pulling Peter into his arms. Peter sighs, lets out another giggle, and burrows against Stiles's body.

They rest for awhile. Stiles is sure Peter doesn't mean to sleep, but he can hear Peter’s breathing even out and his body go lax. He lets it happen.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't beta'd and is therefore weaker -- a lot weaker -- than the previous chapters. But if I post unbeta'd chapters, I can start posting a lot more frequently. So yay?

**Peter's Creative Writing Journal**  
Tuesday, Sept. 15

I thought I wouldn't know what to write, but Ms. Blake gave us a topic to write about in our first ten minutes. The topic is surrender. I find myself curious about what the other students in class will write about the topic, more than I want to write about it myself.

Surrender is personal for me, and I don't feel comfortable writing about it in a classroom activity. Ms. Blake promises no one will read our journals, but it still feels like a vulnerable thing to do, and I don't like being vulnerable except with my Dom.

I guess I could write about my Dom. 

I have five minutes left. 

His name is Stiles. He's ten years older than I am. He's the best thing that's ever happened to me. Sometimes I think about what might happen when our contract is up and it ~~makes me sad~~

I have two other journals. Maybe I'll write about surrender in my personal one. Stiles spelled it so it'll only open to me. I haven't written anything in it yet because I wasn't sure what to say. But surrender seems like the right thing to write about, since I'm not writing about it here.

* * *

**Peter's Private Journal**  
Sept. 15

In school today I was given an assignment, which I didn't do because I don't feel comfortable writing about deeply personal things in my class journal. But I thought I could write about it here, instead.

The topic is surrender. 

As a sub, I think about surrender a lot. As myself, I don't do it a lot, though. I've only been able to surrender with Stiles, and so far not a lot, really. 

To surrender, a sub has to fully trust in their Dom(me). And I do trust Stiles. I think he'll keep me safe, and whole, and I don't think he'd take advantage of me in a vulnerable state. We've been in situations already where I had to trust him to respect my safeword if I give it, and especially after what happened when I called Yellow the other day, I do know he'll listen if I need to safeword out of a scene.

But I still feel like I'm not surrendering _enough_. I don't know how else to explain it. Like I can get to subspace, and that means I must be surrendering a lot already, right?

Maybe this is something I should talk to Stiles about, but maybe I'll keep it to myself. I don't want him to think I don't trust him.

I guess I'm saying my mind trusts him, but my heart isn't quite there yet? Except my heart is surrendering pretty much completely. Maybe I'm scared of what will happen if I give him everything. Maybe I shouldn't give him everything. 

I know he said we could renegotiate our contract at the end and extend it, but what if he doesn't want to? What if he leaves and doesn't come back? I don't know what I'm doing. I should talk to him about what happens next. But I'm scared.

Maybe the best thing is to write it in our shared journal. A letter to Stiles might be what I need.

But I'm not sure what to say. I want to explain about the surrender thing but I don't understand why I can't, not completely. Maybe it's because of the contract. Of the temporary nature of our relationship. I'm worried about losing Stiles, but I don't really…

Do I have him right now?

How can I surrender to something so fleeting?

* * *

**Stiles and Peter's letter journal**  
Sept. 16

Dear Stiles,

I thought it would be easy to tell you what I need to tell you in a letter, but now that it's time to put it down into words you'll see, it's not so easy.

But we're supposed to be honest here. Maybe I should tell you some things, but not the things I'm not ready to tell you.

I really liked our last scene, even though it didn't go the way we planned. You made it special. You made me feel special.

You always make me feel like that.

But I was worried you'd be disappointed. Were you? That's why I didn't safeword right away. It's dumb and I know better, but I didn't want to be like that. I thought I was supposed to like it, and when I didn't, I think I was disappointed, too.

I want to see if I can get to subspace without the pain. Can we try that? Maybe I don't need pain at all. I feel like I'm going in the opposite direction now. Maybe it's a good idea, maybe not.

For my birthday, I want you to fuck me. And I want you to call me your slut. 

I love it when you call me eager, like I'm just so hungry for you and you point it out. I love that. I think that's why I'm okay with you calling me names like slut, maybe whore? But only if it's clear it's for you.

I like the things you say to me. All the time, not just during a scene.

I don't want you to leave when the contract is up.

Okay, so I just came out and said it. There's more I could say but I'm not ready to tell you the rest. Maybe it'll be easier to say it in person. Maybe not.

Yours,  
Peter

* * *

Peter knocks lightly on the cottage door before he comes in. "Here," he says. "Letter journal. Don't read it in front of me, okay? Please."

Stiles nods but doesn't reach for the journal yet. "Do you want me to find you so we can talk after, or do you want me to write you back?"

Peter shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe… maybe both? I can wait."

"I can do that." Stiles smiles reassuringly. "Why don't you watch some TV and I'll go read and write my own letter in the other room?"

Peter meets his eyes, then nods. He's nervous, Stiles can see, but there's something firm in the set of his jaw. He's talked himself up to this point and he's not backing away. Stiles loves how brave he is, even though he doesn't show it often.

So Stiles takes the journal, motions to the couch, and asks, "It's getting late, are you having dinner with me?"

Peter shakes his head. "Richard's making roast. You're always invited up to the house, though."

Stiles looks at his watch. That gives them about an hour before they have to leave. "Okay. I'll read, write, and we'll talk if we have time. If not, we can talk after dinner. Have you finished your homework tonight?"

"All done," Peter says. "I'm yours."

Stiles runs a hand through Peter's hair. "Okay, baby." Then he takes the journal into his room and closes his door.

He reads Peter's letter.

* * *

**Stiles and Peter's letter journal**  
Sept. 16

Dear Peter,

First of all, you didn't disappoint me at all in our last scene. I was worried for you when you hesitated on giving a color, and I knew we needed to talk. I'm glad you were honest with me, though I wish you could have done it earlier. But I understand why you didn't.

We need to address that. I've told you before there's no such thing as a bad sub. Not being a masochist doesn't make you a bad sub. You don't have to like pain. A lot of subs do, but then again, a lot don't. People are individuals. You can submit in different ways, and I'll be happy to explore them with you. Yes, we can try a scene that doesn't include impact play or other kinds of pain. Exploring your kinks is fun for me. I want it to be fun for you, too.

Thank you for telling me what you want for your birthday. I'm proud of you for telling me your fantasies. I look forward to hearing more about this. Maybe we can talk about it later.

As for leaving, I want you to know I'm enjoying our time together. I don't want to leave, and I don't want to leave you. But part of helping you grow into a strong, independent, knowledgeable sub is letting you spread your wings. I can't be the only Dom you ever play with. I want you to have experience beyond me. I love being your Dom, and I have strong feelings for you personally, but it can't be permanent right now.

Look at what I just wrote before you get too upset. Okay, baby? I said right now.

It's possible that we can renegotiate our contract to extend the dates beyond six weeks. I'm more than okay with that. But eventually I'm going to have to leave, even if it's just for a little while. And while I'm gone, I expect you to find other Doms. I want you to date. I want you to scene with other people, as long as they are trustworthy and safe.

I'll come back after awhile. Maybe we can have a casual arrangement that we play while I'm in town. See, I don't want to leave you, but I will come back to you. You mean too much to me for that not to happen.

Love,  
Stiles

* * *

Stiles comes out of his bedroom and hands the journal to Peter. Before Peter can open it, Stiles bends down, takes Peter's face in his hands, and gives him a sweet, lingering kiss. 

Peter closes his eyes and only opens them again after Stiles has drawn away and Peter's had a chance to savor the long, perfect moment.

"It's late," Stiles says. "We should talk after dinner."

Peter knows it's late. He's been watching the clock, getting more and more anxious as time went by. "Do I have time to read your letter?" he asks, clutching the journal.

Stiles nods. "But then we have to go. Richard will put us in his stew pot if we're late."

Peter opens the journal, then looks up again.

"I'll go on ahead. You read and catch up with me," Stiles says with an understanding smile.

He runs a hand over Peter's hair, gently, not tousling this time, and then leaves Peter alone in the cottage.

Peter looks down at the page opposite his own letter. Stiles's writing is small but neat. His words are…

Honest. Stiles is always so honest. Peter trusts him not to lie, so when Stiles says he has strong feelings and doesn't want to leave, Peter believes him. But he also believes him when he says he will leave. 

But the letter also seems to be saying he won't be leaving entirely. Not really. And that gives Peter hope.

He reads it again. And then one more time. Stiles is probably already at the house now, and here Peter is just sitting around trying to make it sink in.

Stiles will leave. But he won't abandon Peter.

* * *

Dinner is pot roast with vegetables. It's probably delicious, but Stiles can barely taste what he's eating. He's too preoccupied with thoughts of Peter.

Everyone is talking while they eat, kids and adults alike. It's a boisterous, happy atmosphere, and it makes Stiles smile. Being an only child and then losing his mom the way he did meant he didn't get to experience a lot of dinners like this one.

Peter's been surrounded by pack all his life. He's never really been alone, not like Stiles. He probably needs a Dom who'll stick around and be there for him. Stiles is too selfish to give him up, though, even though he can't do that. Maybe he should give the boy a clean break. Teach him what he can and then let him go. Let him fly.

But Stiles has done the unforgivable and gotten attached. In no time at all, really.

It's just been so easy. Peter is just as smart and sarcastic as Stiles, but when he submits, he goes down so sweet. It's hard not to react when Peter's big blue eyes are looking at him like he hung the moon. When he tries so hard to be good.

And that's just it — he is good. Peter is magnificent. Stiles wants to have him every way he can, then hold and coddle him in the aftermath.

For the time being, he can have that. He just has to keep in mind it's not forever.

* * *

Stiles and Peter walk together back to the cottage. Peter wants to reach out, but he's saved that when Stiles does the reaching and takes his hand. They don't talk on the way back, but there's a nice hum of affection between them as they walk hand in hand.

Once they're alone in the cottage, they talk.

Well, they start out by cuddling on the sofa, Peter's head resting over Stiles's heart. Then they talk.

"The full moon is coming," Peter says. "You're sure you're okay with that?"

"It'll be an honor to run with your pack," Stiles reassures him. "I'm not scared."

Trust Stiles to get to the heart of the matter.

"Now do you want to talk about what we said in our letters?" Stiles asks.

Peter hides his face against Stiles's shirt. He's grateful that Stiles lets him. "You answered me. I think… I don't know if we need to talk about it."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asks.

Peter nods. "I got my answers. And after a little while everything sank in. I'm good."

"So you followed me home because…?" Stiles asks.

Peter gives a sly smile. "Maybe I just wanted to make out with you."

Stiles sits up and grins. "Is that so?"

"Mhm," Peter says, then straddles Stiles's lap. Stiles looks up at him patiently, but Peter can see the flare of heat in his eyes. "Are you going to kiss me, sir?"

Stiles lets out a growl worthy of a werewolf and captures Peter's mouth with his own.

They make out for a long time, but Peter finally pulls back when he feels Stiles's erection. "There is one thing we should talk about," Peter says, as evenly as he can though he's mostly breathless at this point.

"Hmm?" Stiles asks, kissing his neck before pulling back. "What's that?"

"I want to make you come," Peter says. He tilts his chin up, willing to be stubborn about it.

Stiles looks surprised. Then intrigued. "How do you want to do that?"

Peter smirks. Just because he doesn't have experience with a partner doesn't mean he doesn't know how to work a dick. "Do you want my hand? Or… my mouth?"

Heat flares in Stiles's eyes and his gaze travels down to Peter's lips. Peter licks his bottom lip and Stiles takes in a sharp breath. "I could go for either, but I'd love your mouth."

"Can I?" Peter asks.

"Not tonight," Stiles says, and Peter pouts. Stiles shakes his head. "None of that, baby. I want to give you plenty of time and we don't have it now."

"But you're hard and I want to make you come," Peter says. "Please, sir? You're always so good to me."

"How about a compromise?" Stiles says. He pushes Peter back a little on his lap so he can reach his fly, then opens it up and exposes his dick. It's bigger than Peter anticipated, but that's fine. That's more than fine. Peter's mouth waters at the sight.

Peter's hand hovers. "Can I touch?"

Stiles takes Peter's hand and whispers against his palm. Peter feels a tingle of magic and then a slick feeling on his skin.

"Magic lube is so convenient," Peter murmurs. He's turned on every time Stiles does something magical. From the glint in Stiles's eyes, he knows it.

"Now touch," Stiles says, and kisses him. 

Peter wraps his hand around Stiles's thick cock and begins to stroke. It's a little different from his own — bigger, for sure, but also missing foreskin. Peter does his best.

Stiles groans and kisses him deeper. "Perfect. You're perfect," he says.

Peter thumbs over the head. Stiles gasps and pulls him closer. Then he puts his hand over Peter's and shows him how he likes to be stroked. It's so hot, Peter feels like he's going to implode.

"There," Stiles says, and starts kissing and sucking at Peter's throat. The back of their hands rub against Peter's cock through his pants.

Peter can smell Stiles's arousal. It's intoxicating and liberating. Yes, Stiles wants him. It's always such a surprise, though it shouldn't be. It makes Peter bolder, makes him take initiative. He kisses Stiles, then drags his lips across his jaw to his ear. Nips at his earlobe. Notes the shiver Stiles gives at the action, then moves on to his Dom's neck.

Stiles hums and tilts his head. "Yeah, baby."

Peter bites at the slope of Stiles's neck, just a nibble at first, but he's urged on by a hand in his hair and a moan on Stiles's lips. He tightens his grip on Stiles's cock, strokes faster and more firmly. 

"Yeah, like that, so good," Stiles says, and groans deeply when Peter squeezes the head of his dick before stroking down again.

"I want to make you come," Peter tells him before scraping his teeth against Stiles's skin. Stiles is human. He could leave a mark. He wonders if Stiles will keep it if he does. 

"You will, oh, I'm getting there," Stiles replies. His hips jerk up and he fucks into their hands, his own fingers entwined with Peter's now. 

Peter's own cock is straining against his zipper. Every now and then Stiles's knuckles bump and slide against the bulge, and Peter's wondering if he could just unzip and join in. If he doesn't, he might just come in his pants by the time this is over.

He takes his mind off his own cock by stroking Stiles's in time with his breaths, with his thundering heartbeat, so loud in Peter's ears now that they might as well be his own. He sucks a mark into Stiles's skin and Stiles lets him, moans for it, slides a hand into Peter's hair to keep him in place.

And then with a gasp and no other warning, Stiles is coming, and the scent of it sends Peter reeling. He comes too, only a moment later, one hand gripping Stiles's shirt because he needs to hold on to _something_.

His other hand is messy with Stiles's come and it's so tantalizing, so close. He opens his eyes to see Stiles's fucked-out but knowing expression. So he lifts his hand to his mouth. Licks and sucks his hand clean. The magical slick tastes sweet, but also a bit like Stiles, and mixed together with come is delicious.

Stiles must like what he sees because the man reels him in for a kiss, filthy and deep, Stiles's tongue seemingly seeking out his own taste in Peter's mouth.

It's worth every uncomfortable step when Peter walks home with a damp mess in his pants. Thankfully no one says anything as Peter makes his way upstairs to a shower.

Actually, Peter wouldn't care much if they did stop to tease him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not beta'd. I love this chapter, though. :D

"Stiles. I've been looking for you," Talia says.

Stiles stops what he's doing — sneaking some of Richard's homemade salsa onto some lime tortilla chips — and raises his eyebrows.

Talia smiles. "His salsa is delicious, but you don't have to act like you're stealing. He makes it for all of us."

Stiles doesn't say he's not pack and therefore not one of 'us'. Talia seems to be including him despite that. He finishes chewing his delicious bite before saying, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"About the full moon," Talia says. "It's the Harvest Moon, closest to the fall equinox. I was wondering if you know the rites."

Stiles turns his attention from salsa to the Alpha. That's what Talia is right now, and Stiles her acting Emissary. "I do know them, but I've never given them before."

"Will you?"

Stiles blinks slowly, then smiles. "I'd be honored. Who is your normal pantheon?"

Talia smiles, as if she's gotten exactly what she wants. "You mean you're not going to just assume or use your own?"

Stiles shakes his head. "This is personal to your pack."

She's still smiling. "We ask Brigid for her blessings on full moons. For health and balance."

Stiles slots that into his mind and he suddenly has a much more complete picture of the Hales.

Talia looks smug, though Stiles doesn't know why. He's sure he'll find out. She says, "I know you were already planning to run with us afterward. I'm looking forward to that."

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "This isn't going to be one big game of hunt the human, is it?" he asks jokingly.

Talia laughs. "You should negotiate that with my brother, if you're interested."

* * *

It's right before moonrise. Peter is watching Stiles appreciatively. He's wearing comfortable clothes: a tank and loose pants he's worn while doing yoga or practicing katas. The tattoos on his arms are in full view, and Peter keeps meaning to ask about them but they're so damn distracting.

It's been over a year, since before their Emissary left, that Peter's heard the rites. Stiles's voice is smooth, never faltering, as he asks the goddess Brigid for her blessings.

He asks for her blessing at their hearth and home, for their pack. He gives thanks for her healing. And he prays for the balance between wolf and man, as she is the balance between fire and water.

Peter has heard blessings before, but with Stiles acting as Emissary, they seem so much more personal. Deeper, somehow.

Everyone is gathered in the clearing except Alex and Cora. Alex is human and not really interested in full moon customs, and Cora is too young to participate, though soon she'll be old enough to go on short runs. But everyone else is waiting for the moon, and when it comes, Talia steps out of her robe and shifts fully. She howls, and it is a joyous call to her pack to join in a run.

Peter howls back, his beta shift taking over with the pull of the moon and pack. Talia is off like a shot into the forest, and Peter only barely has the presence of mind to look over at Stiles to catch his reaction.

Stiles is grinning brightly, and for a moment the exposed runes on his arms seem to glow. Then he's off, running after Talia, or rather… running with her. Like pack.

Peter howls again with happiness and then he's off, chasing after all the others.

He can feel them through his pack bonds — Alpha strongest of all, but the rest of them, too. Even the youngest pup who isn't running. Even the lone human of the pack is a thin gold thread of warmth and humor.

Peter finds himself wishing he could feel his Dom, though his magic is in the air tonight. He can smell it. Can practically taste him up ahead, keeping pace with Alpha. Peter's wolf wants to impress, wants to show off, but also just wants to be close. Share scent. Enjoy the run.

Stiles pulls him forward just like the moon pulls him. Peter's vision is sharp, his ears are perked, and the scents of the forest air rush by as he runs.

* * *

Stiles has been around plenty of packs, but tonight is the first time he's run with any on the full moon. He's never realized what he's been missing out on.

He can feel the wildness in the air. There is an ambient magic to a place supernaturals live, and this forest has been home to the Hale pack for generations. Tonight the magic is in the air, and Stiles's inner spark reacts to it. 

He's never seen a werewolf in a full shift before. He's heard about it to know it's rare. He's been told the alpha of the Hale pack can do it. But to see her step out of her robe and into the body of a beautiful black wolf is completely outside any other experience. He is awed and humbled.

He can feel her power tonight, and realizes now why other shifters respect her so much. She is coiled energy, strength and might. She is graceful as she bounds away under the moonlight, and he follows her without having to think. _How much more would a wolf want to follow?_ he wonders.

Thanks to his magic, he can keep up with her easily. Behind him, he feels Peter running, too. He wonders what it must be like to be even more conscious of the pack, to be entwined with them through their bonds.

The others are around, too. Richard runs ahead to be with his mate. Elpha takes up the rear, keeping an eye on Laura and Derek, who yip and get sidetracked a few times, playing with each other, kicking up leaves, doing other things Stiles doesn't understand yet but wants to.

Stiles lets himself fall back a bit so Peter can run right behind him. He isn't expecting his boy to playfully tackle him to the ground.

Somewhere not far away, Elpha laughs, the sound carefree but with a wolf's timbre. Stiles just stares up into Peter's glowing eyes, panting lightly.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Stiles says. Peter leans down and licks at the corner of Stiles's mouth. It's a submissive gesture, coming from a wolf. Stiles smiles, then picks his head up to nip at Peter's chin.

Peter grins and hops off him, gives him a challenging look, then runs.

Stiles is only nonplussed for a moment. Then he gets back to his feet and gives chase.

They chase each other back and forth like this for hours, until Stiles feels his muscles and magic begin to wane. He's sure that with some practice, he could do it all night. But for now, for once, he's lacking in stamina.

He makes his way back (way, way back) to the clearing where they started. Peter helps, throwing an arm around him. Stiles isn't sure if Peter knows he's helping or if he just wants to touch and get his scent all over Stiles. Either way, it works.

Back at the clearing, Talia is talking to Derek, low and seeming important. Stiles looks over at Laura and smiles at her pointed ears peeking through her long hair. Then he notices everyone else has left their beta shift behind, and Laura appears to be struggling.

Talia is busy with Derek and Stiles doesn't see Elpha. Peter could probably help but he doesn't seem eager to. But Stiles knows how to do this. He's had Emissary training, which sometimes delves into spiritual and metaphysical guidance. Not to mention his experience with Scott, who needed some outside help now and then. Still does, really, just not with this particular thing.

Stiles sits on the ground and motions Laura over. Her eyes continue to glow. Her brow ridge looks adorable on her, but Stiles can feel her frustrated energy.

"Hey, pup," Stiles says. "Want to sit with me? I'm worn out."

Laura shrugs one shoulder but sits in front of him, crossing her legs in front of her. She looks over at her mother, but Talia is still talking to Derek in a low voice that doesn't carry. Laura closes her eyes. She whispers something, repeats it, then again. Stiles understands the words and realizes they are a mantra, "Alpha, Beta, Omega. Alpha, Beta, Omega."

"How old do you think Cora needs to be before she can come out here with you guys?" Stiles asks. A simple question to get Laura's mind off of trying too hard. A question about her pack, which is one of the most common anchors. Even if it's not Laura's personal anchor, the subject could be enough to pull her back to her more human side.

"I was six when I started running, but Mama says Cora can run soon, even though she's not even five yet," Laura says. She looks down at her claws and growls at them.

"Well, you're the oldest," Stiles says reasonably. "The first. Talia wanted to make sure she was getting it right. By now it's much easier for her to see when Cora's ready, but with you… maybe she wasn't sure yet."

Laura looks up, blinking at him. Her face changes, smooths out, though her eyes still glow. "Mama's always sure of everything," she says.

"She had to learn first," Stiles points out. "Just like you do. Just like everyone. So now she knows Cora's almost ready to run on the full moons, but you taught her how to see that. You and your brother, probably."

"That's right," Talia says, coming over now. She gives Stiles a nod. "And there are still things I have to learn. You never stop learning, in life."

Laura smiles with human teeth, her eyes hazel again. 

Stiles grins at her. It feels so good to be helping a pack like this, closer and more personally than he's used to when he's called in as a temporary Emissary. He's usually just filling in, drawing wards or helping draw up treaties. He's usually just another tool for packs, but here he almost feels like he could fall into their routines and be a part of the pack's overall system. 

He's using the wrong words in his head, trying to distance himself even now. They are a family. He would be part of their family, if he was looking for that. Maybe not this pack, but _some_ pack. He could be a full-time, dedicated Emissary to a pack and really be part of something like this.

He shakes his head and pushes the thoughts away. He knows he's not ready to commit to a pack like that. And… if he's honest with himself, he can't imagine giving that much of himself to some faceless, nameless pack he hasn't met yet.

He doesn't let himself dwell on any what-ifs about the Hales.

"We're headed back to the house," Talia says. "Elpha's already gone to be with Alex for the night."

Stiles looks up, watches Richard put an arm around Talia's waist. Laura scrambles away and Derek follows.

Talia smiles at Peter. "Take good care of him."

Stiles frowns, not knowing what she means, until Peter nods and holds out a hand to help Stiles up. Stiles groans as he stands, his legs protesting and feeling like jelly. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow," he says with a laugh.

Peter grins and wraps an arm around his waist. Together, they walk back to Stiles's cottage. They don't say much, just enjoy the companionship. Stiles is surprised to see it's almost three in the morning when he finally looks at the clock when he gets in his house.

"No wonder I'm worn out," he says. "I wasn't prepared for that many hours of using my magic. Or my muscles." 

"Shower?" Peter asks.

"I don't think I have the energy," Stiles replies. He's so tired now, the adrenaline of the night worn off and leaving him in crash mode.

Peter frowns as Stiles lies down on the sofa. "C'mon, I'll help you to your room."

"Ugh," Stiles says, and laughs quietly. "I'll be fine after some sleep and meditation, with the magic at least. But wow, I used muscles I forgot I had." He sits up and after a few more muttered curses allows Peter to help him into the other room. He sits on the edge of his bed and Peter drops to his knees to help with Stiles's shoes and socks. "Thank you, baby," Stiles says, reaching out and running a hand over Peter's hair.

Peter looks up at him and gives him a look like Stiles is doing him a favor. He's not, not really. He just likes touching, and Peter likes being touched. 

Peter likes a lot of things Stiles has no trouble doing or saying. It really is working out perfectly.

Stiles raises his arms when Peter asks him to, and Peter slips his shirt off over his head. Stiles lies down with a heavy sigh. He's only a little surprised when Peter strips down and crawls into bed with him.

"Are you staying?" Stiles asks.

"If I can," Peter answers. He reaches over and switches off the lamp beside the bed, casting the room into darkness, though the moonlight shines through the window brightly.

Stiles tugs Peter against him. "You're always welcome, sweetheart."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still not beta'd.

At lunch, Peter listens to music and does his homework from any morning classes. He's still not allowed to do homework at Stiles's, Talia worried he'll be too distracted to work, so he tries to get as much of it out of the way as he can, as soon as possible. 

He eats, too. Richard usually packs a lunch for him, so it's not school slop. Today he has a turkey and watercress sandwich on rye with a sweet onion spread. He's listening to a playlist Stiles gave him, and a song he doesn't know shuffles on.

_Buried in the rubble, there's a boy in trouble, reaching for a piece of the sky…_

He doesn't notice at first that someone's sitting next to him.

"So much for werewolf senses," she says.

Peter takes his earbuds out and hits pause on his music. "Do you want something?"

He recognizes her from a few of his classes. Her name is weird and he doesn't remember it. She smells a little like Ms. Blake though, and this close he can tell she's a druid.

"I'm Marin," the girl says.

Peter frowns at her, waiting for her to tell him what she wants.

She smiles. "And you're Peter. Nice to meet you."

"Is that what just happened?" Peter asks.

Marin laughs. "No one knows what to think of you, Peter, but just about everyone I've talked to has warned me off you. So I decided we're going to be friends."

Peter narrows his eyes. "Why would I want to be friends with you?"

She shrugs a shoulder. "I'm pretty awesome. I'm a sub but I'm going to be an Emissary one day. I'm smart, confident, good looking, and a decent person. Why _wouldn't_ you want to be friends with me?"

Peter opens his mouth to ask her if she's sure she's a sub, but then thinks better of it even as good-natured teasing. She probably hears it all the time and is sick of it. Instead, he says, "Okay. So you want to be my friend because I'm a challenge?"

"And interesting. I've never met a werewolf sub before. But more than that, the answer you gave in Dynamics yesterday about there being no such thing as a bad sub was… pretty amazing," Marin says.

He feels his face go warm. "It was just something I've heard," Peter mumbles.

Marin grins at him. "Yeah, but it's obvious you believe it."

Of course he believes it. If he didn't, Stiles would be sitting him down every day, gently lecturing until he did. He's not telling Marin that, though. "There's more than one way to be a sub, and stereotypes hurt everyone."

She just grins wider. "I agree. Is that your homework you're doing?" she asks, scooting forward to look.

Peter hasn't decided one way or the other if Marin is worth his time, or the energy it probably takes to keep up a friendship. But maybe if he just lets it be, it'll sort itself out. He thinks about what Stiles will say. How proud he'll be if Peter makes an effort.

He sighs. "Yes. I like to get my homework over and done with as quickly as I can."

"Smart. Maybe I should do mine, too." And then she stops talking and lets him get back to what he's doing. She takes out her own notebook and spreads out next to him.

They work in companionable silence. When the bell rings, she waves goodbye and goes on to her class. Peter's not completely sure, but he thinks he just made a friend.

* * *

Marin makes a deal with someone and ends up switching seats so she's right behind Peter in all three classes they have together. 

At first, Peter thinks it's strange, but in History when Marin starts whispering sarcastic asides under her breath that only he can hear, he decides he likes it. A few times he's had to catch himself from laughing out loud. 

"Mr Hale, did you have something to say about the East India Company?" his history teacher asks him when Peter can't help his smirking.

"No, not really," Peter says. The teacher narrows his eyes but then turns back to his white board. Peter turns around to mock glare at Marin. She only offers him an innocent smile.

He finds himself smiling back.

* * *

Every day in Creative Writing, the first ten minutes of class are dedicated to journal writing. The rest of the class varies. Today, there's a first line on the board and the students are supposed to go from there. 

Peter's doodling pictures of Stiles's tattoos and thinking about his upcoming birthday. It is _so close_. He can't stop imagining it… and getting inappropriate erections.

"Nice runes," Ms. Blake says as she passes by his desk. "But not the assignment."

Marin snickers behind him. He turns to look at her, and again she gives him an innocent look. Then she looks over his shoulder to his paper. "Nice. Where'd you learn those?"

"My Dom has them as tattoos," Peter mutters. He turns back to his notebook, turns the page, and looks back up at the board. Time to get to work.

"Interesting," Marin whispers.

* * *

"Your Dom is a _Spark_ ," Marin says. Then, "Your Dom is a _Spark?_ "

Peter's proud of the fact that he managed to attract such a powerful magic user. He's more proud of Stiles just being Stiles, though. "Yeah."

Marin looks like she's about to throttle him. "Do you even understand what that means? Sparks have near-limitless power!"

Peter thinks about the full moon and the exhaustion after. He shrugs. "He has limits."

"Is he your pack's Emissary?" Marin asks. "Wow, that's an amazing catch for the Hales."

"We don't have an Emissary right now," Peter says. "Stiles is kind of pitching in while he's around, but he's… he's not staying."

"Oh," Marin says, looking suddenly much more sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Peter. When is he leaving?"

Peter shrugs. "Don't know. We're going to extend our contract past the original six weeks, but I'm not sure for how long."

Marin tilts her head. "Must be hard."

Peter shrugs again and looks away. 

She looks like she's going to say something more, and Peter braces himself. It's probably something he can't answer, like 'Do you love him?'

But then she shakes her head and gives him a hug, instead. "Things'll work out."

Peter sits absolutely still. He's not used to anyone besides pack touching him. And Stiles, but Stiles is different.

Marin pulls away. "Whoa, sorry. I hug. It just comes out of me sometimes. Did I make you uncomfortable? I should've asked first."

"I'm just not used to it," Peter mutters.

"I should know better," Marin says.

"Really, it's no big deal. Just let me know next time so I have a chance to prepare," he says, only half joking.

Marin grins. "Can do."

* * *

In Dynamics, Ms. Blake talks about subs in the career force. The military comes up, and Peter learns that most branches are eager to take subs into their ranks, though that's more of a turn of phrase than the truth since subs advance up the chain of command at a disproportionately slower pace than Doms and switches. Subs are there to follow orders, it seems, not to give them. 

Peter glares down at his desk. It's a lot like werewolf packs. He's never heard of a sub Alpha, though he's sure they must exist. Right? Then again, it might happen by accident. Kind of like being a werewolf sub. He feels a little like an accident sometimes.

He wants to ask Stiles about it. Not that Peter wants to be an Alpha, but… the idea of never being anything but his sister's beta rankles him.

Then again, he doesn't have to pin all his identity on his dynamics within the world or in the pack, which is a good, healthy thought. Stiles would be proud. It's just easier said than done.

Ms Blake says, "So I want everyone to think about their career choices, what obstacles might be in the way of your dreams, and how you're going to overcome them. Because you can, you know. It might take some activism and some out of the box thinking, but I believe in every one of you."

"She is so awesome," Marin whispers to him. Peter nods.

He also realizes she's not just speaking to the subs in the class when she talks about obstacles. There are Doms in the class who might be looking into careers that are traditionally 'for subs'. Or — and this is what he's thinking the most deeply about — she's showing the Doms the power and privilege they'll have in the workforce, and subtly pushing them to be allies instead of upholders of the status quo.

He writes down his thoughts quickly. It sounds like a good topic for the upcoming essay they'll be writing.

When class is over, he bumps Marin's shoulder lightly. Companionably. They grin at each other.

* * *

Peter spends more time with Marin and gets more details out of her about her life. She's interesting. He wouldn't say they bond, exactly, but she knows what it's like to have an older sibling who is an overachiever. Her brother is a veterinarian and an Emissary, as well as a Dom. Marin wants to be an Emissary as well, but her career path lies more in psychology. 

As soon as Peter hears that last bit, he asks her not to psychoanalyze him. He's only half joking.

"Too late," Marin says, mirth dancing in her eyes. "But I'll keep it to myself."

Peter groans but really, he does like her.

* * *

He tells Stiles about her after a few days. "I seem to have acquired a friend."

Stiles grins and hugs him. "Details!"

Peter melts into the hug. Then he pulls back and rolls his eyes. "Her name is Marin and she basically strong-armed me into a friendship."

"You probably needed a bit of a push. Besides, you would have froze her out if you really didn't want her around." Stiles says it confidently and Peter is left to marvel at how well they've gotten to know each other.

"You're right," Peter tells him. He tugs Stiles over to sit next to him on the sofa, but hesitates.

"What is it, baby?"

Peter's eyes flick to the plush carpet Stiles had put in. "May I kneel?"

Stiles reaches out, runs a hand through Peter's hair. Peter could probably stand to get a haircut, but he likes the way Stiles plays with his curls. Stiles is smiling at him, nodding, so Peter sinks to his knees. He does it gracefully now, after so much practice. The moment he's in the position, he relaxes. It's so soothing to be at Stiles's feet.

"Very good," Stiles says. "Now tell me more about Marin."

"She's a sub, but she wants to be an Emissary like her brother. He's a Dom, though. Do you know a lot of sub Emissaries?" Peter asks curiously.

"I do." Stiles looks thoughtful. "I think subs even settle into the role more easily. I'm not sure why, though."

"I think she wants to be a psychologist, too," Peter says. "She talks about psychology a lot. I told her not to analyze me but I know she does it anyway."

Stiles smiles and plays with Peter's hair. He's definitely not cutting it any time soon. Stiles asks for more details.

"We're in three classes together, and we've been sitting together during lunch. I don't know what else to say. I've never really had a friend before, not like this." Peter thinks silently that there've been people he's pretended to be friendly with for certain benefits, to get them to do what he wants, but Marin is more of an equal. 

Stiles gives him a knowing look and he flushes.

"And so school's been better lately," Peter concludes with an awkward shrug.

"Good. I'm proud of you, baby." Stiles pulls him up a bit more and leans down so they're face to face. Peter can't get over the amber of Stiles's eyes. Then he can't think about eyes anymore because Stiles is kissing him deeply and turning his brain to mush.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd! Hope you don't mind. I went over it and couldn't find anything in particular.

Peter's birthday falls on a Friday. Stiles and he negotiate (at this point, Peter's getting really good at negotiation) and decide Peter will stay that night with Stiles, then they will have the weekend to do everything Peter's little heart desires.

Stiles's words, not Peter's.

Peter's birthday dinner is special, though. Talia extends an invitation to Marin as soon as she hears the words 'Peter made a friend' come out of Stiles's mouth. 

Richard makes Peter's favorite foods, and the Coq au Vin is perfect. Peter can taste the pancetta and cremini mushrooms, the hint of burgundy, all blending perfectly with the chicken, and he's pleased to see Richard used pearl onions. There's also bison steak tartare, which Stiles passes on but everyone else loves as much as Peter, even (astonishingly enough) Marin. 

There's salad for show, though everyone knows that's just for propriety's sake. Peter cares little for side dishes except for… oh. Richard's made small plum-glazed venison meatballs, as well.

For dessert there is blackberry granita with a lemon mascarpone cream.

It's a meal worthy of an Alpha, and Peter feels humbled to be given such a feast as a birthday celebration. Only for a moment, though. Then he's just satisfied and very, very full.

"Wow," Marin whispers finally, when she's finished her granita and placed her spoon down.

Peter grins at her. "Good, right?"

"Amazing," she says, looking at Richard. "You're very talented. This is the best meal I've ever had."

Everyone chimes in with their agreement. Elpha and Alex look especially proud of their son. Stiles is nodding along, leaning back, looking satisfied. Peter wants to kiss him.

Cora puffs up and says, "I helped scrape the ice!"

Derek and Laura roll their eyes, though Peter notices they don't chime in with their own additions. Obviously Cora was the only one who 'helped' cook.

"You did a wonderful job," Richard tells Cora. "You were a good helper."

Talia smiles, looking out over the table at her pack. Peter can feel her pride for everyone along the pack bond, an expanding, happy feeling in his chest. It's moments like this that strengthen his anchor.

Peter clears his throat. "Thank you, Richard," he says, and smiles at Cora. "And you. That was delicious granita. You did a good job."

Cora grins at him, not an ounce of bashfulness in her. "Happy birthday, Uncle Peter."

"Aww," Marin says, clearly won over by Cora's gap-toothed charm. Then she turns to Peter, pulling a wrapped present from...somewhere. "This is for you."

Everyone pretends they aren't looking. Peter rolls his eyes at them and opens his present. Inside the box is a beaded bracelet. A leather bracelet would have been weird coming from another sub, since they're mostly used as replacements for collars in relationships. But the dark cat's eye beads are different. Peter tries to remember what cat's eye symbolizes. Something to do with… politics? Power?

"Determination," Marin whispers. Then she points to a rune etched into one of the beads. "For strength." When Peter looks back up at her, she gives a fierce smile.

Peter inadvertently looks over at Alex, the other sub in the room. His smile is just as strong as Marin's when Peter catches his eye.

He puts the box on the table and slips the bracelet on his wrist. 

"Nice rune work," Stiles murmurs. Marin lights up, smiling even wider. "Who are you studying with?"

"My brother; he's a druid Emissary," Marin says. "He's not with a pack right now, so he has time to teach me."

They chat for a little while about runes, Stiles baring his wrist to show off one of his tattoos while talking very seriously about body-safe protections and tattoo ink. Peter finds himself wishing he knew more about what's so obviously important to Stiles. He's not jealous of Marin, exactly, but he feels a little left out of the conversation. He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. It's attractive. Marin did well in choosing the materials.

Stiles ends up sitting next to Peter as others mill around and then out of the dining room. His hand drifts to the back of Peter's neck. The touch does a lot to make Peter feel better.

Eventually though, Marin has to go home. She drove, and Peter finds himself wondering if he should find a part-time job so he can afford a car of his own. Marin enjoys a lot of freedom having her own vehicle.

Once Marin leaves, Peter and Stiles are alone, and they both agree it's time to walk back to Stiles's cottage. The weather is turning toward autumn, and the night is cooler than usual. Stiles takes Peter's hand and squeezes. "It was good meeting your friend. I'm glad you have her. She seems to like you a lot."

"She makes school more tolerable," Peter concedes.

Stiles laughs and pulls Peter closer, slipping an arm around his waist. They're almost to the cottage now. Peter's not nervous, but he's excited. 

"So, did you get me something?" Peter asks. He's mostly just teasing. He doesn't care of Stiles got him a gift or not.

"I did," Stiles says, kissing him behind the ear. Peter shivers. "It's waiting for you in the cottage."

It's a pen.

It's not wrapped, but Stiles presents it to him with his hands held out, like he's got a precious jewel in his hands instead of an ordinary looking blue pen. Peter raises his eyebrows. "Thanks?"

Stiles laughs. "It's spelled. If you click the pen once, it writes in black, and only you can read what you've written. Click twice and it writes in blue, and only you and I can read it. Good for…. letters, or writing in our journal."

Peter blinks. "Thank you," he says, quietly awed. He's never heard of this kind of enchantment, but he guesses Sparks can do this sort of thing.

"You said you didn't want to write anything personal in your journal at school, so I thought of this."

Peter wraps his arms around Stiles's neck and hugs him. Stiles huffs and hugs back, his arms strong and sure around Peter's waist.

Then what Stiles said hits him. Letters. For when Stiles is gone.

Peter holds on tighter. "When are you leaving?"

"Not until after Samhain," Stiles tells him. "I'm all yours until then."

Peter leans back and looks at him. "No. I'm yours." Though he has a feeling his heart will belong to Stiles long after Stiles is gone.

Stiles's eyes glint right before he moves in for a kiss. It's rough this time. Deep and possessive. Peter can only mew a little at the intensity of it.

If Peter didn't know better, he'd think Stiles was as eager to hold on to this as Peter is. His kiss is near-desperate, and his hands roam over Peter's body like he wants to memorize every inch of him. Peter clutches back, holding on as well as he can, and gives himself over. He feels it like a click as everything slots into place. 

He can't help the breathless "Please" that comes out of his mouth.

"Don't I always take care of you, baby?" Stiles asks him, manhandling him into his bedroom and stripping him out of his shirt. He uses his hands, when Peter knows magic would do the trick. Stiles seems to want to do everything hands-on tonight, though.

A month, Peter thinks, as Stiles runs his hands over Peter's exposed skin. They only have one more month to be together. Peter could cry, but he's not sure if he'd be crying over how good he feels or how scared he is to lose this.

"What's wrong?" Stiles murmurs against his ear, his breath warm.

And Peter realizes he didn't just think about crying, but there are actual tears in his eyes. He's overcome with emotions he doesn't want, doesn't need. There's an aching sense of loss, a desperation to hold on to Stiles while he can, and…

He realizes something. He should have already known, but it takes this moment, with Stiles looking at him with concern and care in his eyes, for him to finally get it.

He's in love.

"Sweetheart?" Stiles asks, and Peter feels how wide and wet his eyes are now, both from the thrill and utter dismay.

He shakes his head. He doesn't know how to answer. Maybe he's in shock. He tries to settle his mind, tries to get it back on track, but all he can think now is, _I love you. I love you._

So he reaches up, puts his hand against Stiles's cheek. He feels warm skin and a bit of stubble against his palm as he leans in, slowly, and gives Stiles a kiss. It's lingering. Soft, at first. And then Peter pours himself into it, deepens it and clings, pulling Stiles closer.

* * *

Stiles knows there's something Peter isn't saying. It's in his energy, a restless charge that tells him Peter's holding something back. It's in his kiss, too, a sweet statement Stiles does his best to answer in kind. But Peter isn't talking, and Stiles isn't going to push. Not when they have time now. Peter is his for the weekend, and beyond that, until the first of November. If it's important, it will come up again.

For now, Stiles wants to do what he can to imprint himself on Peter's body, to bring him pleasure and make him beg for more. 

"Okay," Stiles murmurs against Peter's lips. "Tell me what you need."

"Just… you. I need you," Peter says.

"Mm," Stiles hums, and drags his lips down to Peter's throat. The boy throws his head back and moans, and Stiles knows he has him. It's such a sweet surrender, and Peter gives it now in a way he hasn't before.

Peter's body is saying, _It's all for you_ more clearly now that he has in the past. Stiles plans to cherish it.

"You're so good, baby," Stiles tells him. Whispers it into his skin right before he bites, his teeth set against Peter's jugular. 

Peter whines and stretches out even more, like he's trying to give all of himself in one gesture. Stiles appreciates the beauty and graceless submission of it, the purity.

Stiles finds himself wishing he had a werewolf's senses, the sense of smell, because he's certain Peter's chemosignals in this moment would be the sweetest scent. But Stiles has his own way of knowing. Of feeling. Peter's energy is always like a wild thing, but it shifts, bunches up, stretches out with his moods. Stiles senses it now like a beast flopping over and showing its belly. It's a yielding to an extent Peter hasn't given before, and Stiles is humbled.

He can feel his own body buzzing as Peter's submission gives him a high. He presses Peter down on the bed and kisses him more, until the sub is breathless and dazed. Stiles wants to mark him, to own him in every way he can before the weekend is through.

He doesn't want to give this up. He feels Peter's desperation and his own shines through as well. One more month, that's the time he's given himself. He knows he should stop before that even, but it's too late to spare his heart. He's already become attached, but he has to think of what's best for Peter.

Peter needs to grow on without Stiles. He needs to learn to flourish on his own. He's doing so well with Stiles, but letting go is the right thing to do. Stiles isn't going to be so selfish as to hinder Peter's growth.

" _Stiles_ ," Peter whispers, his hands coming up to rest on Stiles's shoulders.

Looking down at him, Stiles traces over his swollen lips with one finger. They're wet and pink, and all Stiles can think of is those lips wrapped around his cock. Peter smiles and gives Stiles's finger a kitten lick. Just a tease, but it's enough to make Stiles want even more. 

"Okay, baby," Stiles says, and rolls off to open his fly. He pushes his jeans and boxers down to his thighs, giving Peter easy access. "You gonna suck my cock for me?"

Peter's eyes widen, but he nods. "Please."

"I know you've never done this before," Stiles says gently. "I want to talk you through it. Teach you how to make me feel good. Would you like that?"

He watches Peter's throat bob as he swallows. "Yes, sir," he says thickly.

"I can sit up if you'd rather be on your knees for it." Stiles motions to the floor. "Tell me how you want to do it."

Peter seems to relax a little. "I always want to be on my knees for you, sir."

Stiles nods because he figured that was the case, though the way Peter says _always_ makes Stiles's insides clench. He wants that, too. More than Peter knows.

Peter scrambles to the floor, knees hitting the soft rug beside the bed. It's thick — Stiles ordered it with Peter's knees in mind, along with the new carpet in the living room. He wants Peter comfortable in his submission. 

Stiles puts his feet flat on the floor and shrugs out of his unbuttoned shirt. Peter's eyes rove over his exposed skin like an awed caress. Then Peter scoots forward so he's kneeling between Stiles's spread legs. He looks up into Stiles's face, waiting to be told what to do.

"You're such a good boy," Stiles tells him, and the murmured praise makes Peter light up. Even his energy brightens at the words. "Hands up here on my thighs."

Peter obeys without question. Without hesitation. It's a heady feeling. Stiles knows it's all for him, that he's won Peter's fierce loyalty. That he's somehow won the boy's surrender. Stiles wants to treasure it, savor it.

"Let's start slow," Stiles murmurs. "Just lick the tip a little. Get familiar with it."

Peter leans in and inhales deeply. Drags his nose along the crease of Stiles's thigh before obeying. There's a drop of precome that he takes on his tongue, and the he lets out a quiet moan.

Stiles smiles. His boy is perfect. "You like how that tastes, baby? Just wait and you can have it all."

That makes Peter groan. "Please, sir. Can I suck you now?"

"Yeah. Do it." Stiles guides Peter's head in with a gentle touch at his nape. Peter leans in so easily, so perfectly, that Stiles nearly groans himself.

And then Peter's mouth is on him. Another lick to the head and then he's taking Stiles into his warm, wet mouth.

"Fuck, you were made for this," Stiles can't help saying. He usually has more control over his mouth than this, but now it's like all those years learning to filter have been sucked away, pun fully intended. "Yeah, baby, just like that. God, your mouth."

Peter hums and takes more, and while Stiles doesn't want to choke him, he's hard pressed not to start fucking the boy's face.

"A little deeper, you can do it," Stiles says, his voice gone deep and lust-filled.

Peter looks up at him under the sweep of his lashes, blue eyes shining, before taking more. 

"My beautiful boy," Stiles murmurs, then gasps when Peter adds suction. 

Peter's hands twitch on his thighs. Stiles knows he wants to touch himself. How could he not? Stiles is tempted to let him.

Then Peter hums again and flexes his tongue against the underside. Stiles pets his hair, tugs a little at the back. 

"Yeah, sweetheart. You got it. I'm gonna move, just…" Stiles rolls his hips back and then forward again, careful of the depth. Peter doesn't get the message though, not about keeping it shallow. He moves forward until Stiles hits the back of his throat and he chokes and pulls back. Stiles thinks he's going to pull all the way off, but he doesn't.

He doesn't, just does it _again_. 

"Okay," Stiles says, groans, and then says, "Stop. Slow down. You want me to fuck your mouth, baby?" He taps the side of Peter's cheek until the boy pulls off.

"Please, sir," Peter says, his voice breathless and needy. 

"How did it feel when you choked on me?" Stiles asks, teasing now, tugging on Peter's hair just a little.

Peter's already flushed, his cheeks pink. His eyes are dark with want. "I liked it," he says. "Please can I have some more?"

Jesus fuck, this boy. "Yeah, baby," Stiles tells him. "But if you need me to stop, tap on my thigh."

Peter nods, quick and eager. Stiles doesn't have to guide him back. All he has to do is nod down at his cock and Peter's taking it again, his mouth somehow even hotter this time around.

Maybe it's from his mouth watering. God, he looks good. Stiles starts out slowly, but Peter takes it eagerly, moaning around him, and it spurs Stiles on. Makes him fuck deeper, harder. Still slow, though, because his boy's got to breathe and he's still not used to it, no matter how eager he is.

But he's obviously enjoying himself. Peter's eyes flutter close every time the head of Stiles's cock touches his throat. He looks like he's enraptured by the sensation. It's seriously doing all kinds of things to Stiles, making him wonder just how far he can take this.

But. He doesn't want his boy to hurt himself. Doesn't want him taking this too far, no matter how much Peter seems to want it. 

So Stiles grips Peter by the hair and takes control, makes sure Peter doesn't choke himself _too_ much. He doesn't want to deal with any negative consequences from that, and he doesn't want Peter hurting and regretting it afterward. 

"I've got you," Stiles promises when Peter whines. "You're doing so good. God, your mouth was made for this, you know?" Stiles's own voice is deep with lust now, but his filter has taken off for the night. "You take it so good. I knew you would. I knew you'd be my perfect slutty boy, sucking me off so perfect."

Peter moans, goes near-limp in Stiles's hold. Stiles fucks his mouth steadily, getting off on the submission, on the surrender, more than anything else. Though god, the feel of it. The way Peter _looks_...

"I'm gonna come, sweetheart. You're gonna make me come with that perfect mouth of yours," Stiles tells him. He makes sure there's no tap out, no second thoughts. "Get ready. You're gonna take it for me." Stiles talks until he can't anymore, until he's speechless with pleasure that makes his toes curl and his belly clench while his balls draw up and he's coming down his boy's throat.

Peter sputters and Stiles can see him work to swallow down the come, even though some escapes his mouth and dribbles down his chin. Then he's wiping it off and licking his fingers, looking up at Stiles like he personally hung the moon in the sky just for him. Dazed. Blissed out.

Stiles pulls him up as much as he can in his post-coital haze, Kisses his swollen lips. Chases the taste of himself in Peter's mouth.

"Thank you, baby," Stiles whispers. "You were so good. Perfect." His hand reaches down to stroke Peter through his pants. "I think you deserve a reward for that."

Peter moans, obviously close. He's hard in his pants, and Stiles gets his fly undone with the barest hint of magic. Ignores the cock that springs forward when Stiles tugs Peter's underwear down in favor of cupping his boy's balls and rolling them a little between his fingers. 

"Please," Peter whispers hoarsely. So sweet and desperate. 

Stiles smiles. "Spread your legs a little, sweetheart."

Peter struggles to comply, though it's got to be difficult when his pants are only down around his thighs. Still, he does the best he can and Stiles teases his fingertips between Peter's legs, then up until he can press on his perineum. 

Peter jolts and makes a sound that's almost a sob. Stiles looks into his eyes and sees tears at the corners, already there from having a cock in his throat, or maybe from being overwhelmed with need. Pretty, either way. 

"I'm gonna make you come just like this," Stiles says, pressing up behind Peter's balls again, firm and sure. "Right, baby?"

"I.. I don't know if… oh, please," Peter rasps. God, his throat is wrecked. He needs water to soothe it, but not just yet. He's going to come first.

"Shh, it's okay," Stiles promises. "I'll take care of you. This feels good, right?"

"Yes, sir. Oh god," Peter says, his voice going going tight and cracking.

Stiles uses his thumb to caress Peter's balls while he presses up. On a whim he lets his fingers wander just a little more to tease lightly at Peter's hole. 

"You sucked me off so good," Stiles says. "You really liked that, huh? Me fucking your mouth, you helpless as I just took it from you. My perfect boy."

"Yeah," Peter says, panting now. "Yes, sir."

"You liked me taking from you. And now you want me to take your other hole, don't you?" Stiles says, tapping against Peter's hole as he does. "You're so eager for it. Can't wait to be filled."

"Yes, sir!" Peter says, loud this time because he's coming on the words, coming without his cock being touched.

Stiles removes his hand and pulls Peter close to him, holds him through it, lets him rut against him twice as he comes on Stiles's belly and chest. "Good boy," Stiles whispers.

Peter clings and Stiles floats a bottle of water from the fridge into the bedroom. Offers it to Peter, who takes it gratefully.

"I'm so proud of you," Stiles says, kissing his hair. 

Peter looks at Stiles's skin where he's come all over him. "Oh. I…" He blushes and bites his lip.

Stiles smiles. "I don't mind. Now I smell like you, right?"

"Like us," Peter admits quietly, like he's telling a deep, dark secret. "I like it."

"It's okay to like it, baby. You're a werewolf. I get it."

Peter sighs in relief and relaxes against him. 

"But I'm going to have to take a shower before I fall asleep."

"Should I…?" Peter asks, and yawns.

Stiles laughs quietly. "I think you can take one in the morning. I'll be right back."

He gives Peter another kiss on his forehead and slips away. Peter finishes undressing and gets under the covers. He looks like he belongs there, in Stiles's bed.

When Stiles gets back from his shower, Peter's sitting up in the bed but asleep. Like he tried to wait but couldn't. It's adorable.

Stiles is so, so gone on this boy. It should be a problem, but at the moment it's just… nice. To have the object of his affections roll over and snuggle against him when he gets into bed, to have his boy snuffle and hum happily when they're close.

He pushes any other thoughts away and enjoys it while he has it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not beta'd.

Peter isn't expecting anything in the morning except maybe some sleepy cuddles, but the scent of buttered toast, eggs, and sweet cantaloupe greets him first thing.

He opens his eyes and sees Stiles with a tray of food. Stiles is smiling at him fondly when he says, "Breakfast in bed okay?"

Peter blinks and sits up, then smiles back. His Dom is amazing. "More than okay."

"I hope you like scrambled. I wanted to go for something reasonably light after the heavy meal we had last night," Stiles explains.

"Scrambled is perfect," Peter says. And for this morning, they are. He usually prefers his eggs over easy, but he's not actually in the mood for runny yolks right now. How Stiles figured that out, he's not sure. 

Stiles sets the tray up over Peter's lap. 

"Have you eaten?" Peter asks.

"Protein shake and a banana," Stiles says. Then he leers playfully. "Gotta keep my energy up with you here."

Peter grins and rolls his eyes. 

There's a vase with a single white rose bud on the tray, and with a wave of his hand, Stiles makes it slowly unfurl. It's a beautiful, meaningful moment that makes Peter's cheeks warm. He's been looking forward to this day for weeks now, and he knows Stiles will fulfill his expectations. His _fantasies_.

He starts eating, ducking his head to hide his blush. He leaves the fruit because… well. Because of what Stiles does when he sees he hasn't touched it yet. 

Stiles takes a piece of melon between his fingers and pushes it gently into Peter's mouth. Peter looks up at him and smiles, licking at the juice on Stiles's fingers before the Dom pulls them away again.

"Little tease," Stiles says.

Peter smiles innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Stiles laughs and feeds him another piece of melon. Peter grins around it.

In no time, the fruit is all gone and Stiles is stepping away from the bed. "I'm going to meditate and you need a shower. Get good and clean for me, baby. There's a new toothbrush beside the sink, too."

"Yes, sir," Peter says, pushing up out of bed and walking toward the en suite bathroom. "Wait, I didn't bring any clothes. Could I…?"

Stiles catches his hand and kisses it. "Later, you can borrow some clothes. Maybe. I think I'll just have you naked for awhile."

Peter swallows hard. He nods and Stiles gives him another kiss. 

"Okay?" Stiles asks.

"Green," Peter says, smiling again. Then he slips away to the bathroom and closes the door. He breathes in deep, looking at himself in the mirror. A high flush is pinking his cheeks. His hair is a mess. He hopes Stiles doesn't hold it against him, then remembers why his hair is so disorganized.

He spent the night in Stiles's bed, in his arms. He never wants to spend another night anywhere else.

He turns the shower on and strips out of his underwear. He looks in the mirror again. Wonders if he'll feel any different when he's no longer a virgin. The reminder gives him a thrill, and he steps under the hot spray.

He's thorough with his cleaning. He's not sure exactly what Stiles is going to do, but getting as clean as possible seems like a good idea.

He's lathering for the second time when he remembers his epiphany of the night before. When he finally realized he's in love with Stiles. He has to prop a hand against the tile wall so he doesn't slip and fall. It's… how could he have forgotten? He had a perfect morning with the object of his love and he didn't once think about the fact that Stiles is only with him for another month.

Maybe he should say something. Tell Stiles how he feels. Or maybe he should knock a hole in his head, see if that gives him some sense.

No, he can't tell Stiles. 

He finishes up his shower, rinses all the lather off, and grabs a towel on this way out. He dries off and wraps it around his waist. Stiles said he wanted him naked, but…

Well. He should obey. He wants to do what Stiles asks, and leaving the towel around his waist wouldn't be following that.

He brushes his teeth quickly with the toothbrush Stiles left for him. It's a light blue, the color of his eyes.

He hangs the towel up on the rod and walks out of the bathroom, completely nude. He can hear Stiles's heart beating steadily in the other room, so he walks into the kitchen. He sees the dishes are already done, so he's really at a loss. What is he supposed to do while he waits?

He walks into the living room and kneels by Stiles's chair. Puts his hands behind his back. Breathes deeply, holds it for a moment, then lets the breath out slowly. 

The wait would be excruciating except for the fact that Peter focuses on Stiles. He breathes deep and just listens to Stiles's heartbeat. It's steady and soothing, a good grounding in the moment. Peter blocks out all other thoughts, all other sounds, until all that's left are Peter's breaths and Stiles's heart.

Finally, Stiles finishes with what he's doing, and walks out to the living room. Peter hears his heartbeat move closer and quicken, so Peter opens his eyes.

"You are so beautiful," Stiles murmurs, poised in the doorway.

Peter smiles as the warmth from Stiles's words floods through him.

When Stiles says it, he does feel beautiful.

* * *

Stiles is hit by just how stunning, how perfect Peter is in his submission. When he says the sub is beautiful, the word doesn't seem to encompass just how exquisite his boy is. But Peter's smile tells him it's enough.

He stalks forward, close enough to touch, because he can't help himself. He needs to run his hands through that damp, curling hair. He needs to press his lips against Peter's flushed cheeks. He needs to breathe in that freshly-clean scent that means Peter washed just for him, so Stiles can dirty him up all over again.

He guides Peter to his feet with one hand. Kisses his blush. Drags his lips to the soft skin behind his ear and breathes in. "All I can think about now is wrecking you. Marking you. Coming inside you."

Peter shivers. He specifically asked Stiles for that in his last journal letter. Tried to explain what it meant to him as a werewolf, to have his partner's scent on him, inside him. The letter Stiles wrote back was nothing short of pornographic assent. It was enough to make him hard just reading it. Just thinking about it now, hearing it from Stiles's own mouth, makes him whine and lean into Stiles's body. 

"So eager," Stiles murmurs, breath hot on Peter's skin.

"Please," Peter says. "I need it."

"Mm you do," Stiles agrees. "You're a needy, greedy boy. Fortunately I like that about you."

Peter brings his hands up to clasp at Stiles's biceps. There are tattoos there, knots of runes from his right shoulder down to his wrist. His left arm is more like a spiral of symbols starting at his bicep and twisting down and down until they wrap around his thumb. Peter's smart and inquisitive enough to know the meaning behind some of them, but most are so esoteric even most magic users don't know their true purposes. Still, Peter likes the look of them. Stiles can tell by the way Peter continually touches his ink, tracing their lines and swirls with his fingertips.

But right now Peter is just holding on, clutching at him while Stiles teases his boy with his lips and words. 

"You're going to be so good for me today," Stiles murmurs softly. He licks a stripe up the side of Peter's neck, then bites down. Not too hard, not yet, but enough that Peter will _feel_ it. Then he sucks at the bite, bringing a mark to the surface, and whispers a spell against the skin that he knows Peter can hear.

"Yes. Please, sir. Mark me up," Peter says. His voice shakes with all the unfulfilled need inside him, and Stiles can't help but oblige him.

"I want you in my bed again," Stiles says. "And this time I'm not stopping until you're stuffed full of my cock. Full of my come."

Peter whimpers at the words and allows Stiles to guide him back to the bedroom. 

Peter looks exquisite spread out over Stiles's sheets, shameless in the light of day. The night before was wonderful, but Stiles is taking the opportunity now to look his fill. To reflect on just how lucky he is to have Peter in his bed. 

Stiles strips out of his clothes and straddles Peter's thighs. "I'm going to play with your body like it's my own, and you're going to let me. I'm not going to ask you. I'm just going to take. If you don't like it, you give your safeword."

Peter gasps and nods.

Stiles slides his hands up and pinches both Peter's nipples at once. "Use your words, baby."

"Yes, sir. Green. Please," Peter groans.

Stiles smiles. "Good boy. This is just what you want. You want me to take control and use you. Want me to take care of you."

"Yes, sir."

"You're so fucking eager, too, aren't you? My precious little slut, can't wait to get fucked."

Peter whimpers and nods again. His eyes are closed, flush high on his cheeks.

Stiles brings his hands back down Peter's body and brushes against his rock-hard dick. "Say it, baby. Tell me what you are."

Peter opens his eyes and swallows thickly. Stiles watches the bob of his throat, watches as he gathers his courage. "Your slut, sir. I'm your slut."

Stiles leans over him and kisses his lips, chaste and sweet. "That's right, baby. You're all mine."

* * *

Peter gasps against Stiles's mouth. He loves how forceful Stiles is being. He needs it, _craves_ it. It makes him feel like Stiles is in his bloodstream, boiling hot throughout Peter's body, taking him over. Stiles doesn't even have to use his magic for Peter to feel it. His natural dominance is enough to make Peter feel like his nerves are sparking.

"Have you been fingering yourself lately?" Stiles asks.

The answer is embarrassing. The _question_ is embarrassing. "Yes, sir."

"You blush so pretty. But that's good, it means it'll be easier to work you open," Stiles says.

"Do you want me to do it?" Peter asks, eager to do something.

But Stiles shakes his head. "No. You're just gonna hold yourself open for me. Make it easier for me to fuck you with my fingers."

Peter whimpers at the mental image.

Stiles moves to the side. Peter doesn't like the loss of contact, but then Stiles is petting his flank. "Bend your knees and hold your thighs open for me. Put your hands… yeah, like that," Stiles says as Peter obeys, holding himself open and vulnerable. "Lift your hips, I'm putting a pillow under you. Perfect angle."

"Can I stay like this?" Peter asks. "When we… when you fuck me. So I can see you. Please, sir. I know it's my first time but…" He trails off. He knows Stiles will want to fuck him from behind because it's easier, but Peter's a werewolf. 

Stiles seems to be thinking along the same lines. He nods. "We'll try it."

Peter smiles. "Thank you, sir."

Stiles moves between Peter's legs. Looks down where Peter's holding himself. "Look at that pretty virgin hole," he murmurs, and runs a dry finger over it, teasing Peter. Then Peter feels a tingle of magic in the air before Stiles's finger returns, this time dripping with slick.

Peter whines when Stiles teases his rim, pressing just the tip of his finger inside and stopping. It's not enough. He needs so much more. 

"But it's greedy, isn't it?" Stiles says before sinking his finger in deeper. Peter gasps and nods, and Stiles says, "Greedy little slutty hole. Can't wait to be filled. You're just pulling me in, I barely had to push."

"Can't help it, sir," Peter whines. Stiles's dirty talk is turning him on even more, making him want everything now. He knows he needs prep but he's close to begging Stiles to just fuck him. He still has a little sense left though, and doesn't.

Stiles smirks like he knows exactly what Peter's thinking. "It's okay. I said I'd take care of you and I will." He twists his finger a few times and then adds another. Stiles has beautiful hands. Gorgeous long fingers. Just knowing they're inside him has Peter whining, pushing back, trying to get more.

"You're so eager and impatient. You'll take it until I think you're ready to take even more. And then you're going to take _that_ , too."

Peter shivers at the forceful edge to Stiles's voice. It's exactly what he needs. His body relaxes and the steady litany of _wantwantneedneed_ in his mind calms down to background noise.

"There's my good boy," Stiles murmurs.

Peter's body starts to hum with pleasure. Stiles just steadily fucks him with his fingers, and Peter barely notices when Stiles adds more. It's just a slick pressure, a rising fullness. Peter's cock is hard and dripping but he barely realizes that, either. Everything is Stiles. Stiles's intent face, his lust-dark eyes. His heartbeat and breaths. The murmuring praise that sends Peter floating higher.

"You with me?" Stiles asks, pulling his fingers out slowly.

Peter whines. "Please," he begs.

"Too empty?" Stiles asks. "It's okay, baby. I'm gonna fill you up. Gonna fuck you now."

"Yes, sir, please, please," Peter says, though his words feel like a desperate slur in his mouth.

Stiles comes in closer. "Bend your knees a little more. Hold on to me, sweetheart."

Peter obeys easily, eagerly. There's more magic in the air, and then Stiles's cockhead is rubbing his hole. Teasing it. Peter wants it inside so bad.

"Let me hear you, baby. Tell me what you need," Stiles says, his voice thick with lust.

"Please. I need your cock, sir. Please fill me up, I'm so empty and I need it so bad," Peter begs.

"You're so perfect," Stiles whispers, and then he's pushing inside, giving Peter just what he needs. The thickness burns a little, stretching Peter farther than he's ever been stretched, but it's such a _good_ heat, letting him know he's really being filled just like he needs. Stiles is looking down between them, watching where he's disappearing inside Peter's body.

Peter feels his balls draw up tight, feels his orgasm coming, feels himself spiralling up higher…

"No," Stiles says firmly, wrapping his fingers around the base of Peter's dick and squeezing hard, holding it off. "You're not coming until I say you can."

Peter sobs, relief and frustration warring. He doesn't want to come, but he's so damn close. But god, the way Stiles has taken control of him is perfect. 

Stiles stays buried deep inside him, waiting, and when Peter finally feels his pleasure recede a little, Stiles nods. "Good boy."

"I don't know how long I can hold out," Peter confesses on a whisper.

Stiles smiles, warm but with a hint of mischief. "I won't make you last long. God, you're so tight, you feel so good on my cock. Don't worry, baby."

Peter blinks at Stiles, parsing his words slowly. Then he smiles back. "Good to know."

Stiles gives a playful growl. "I'm gonna fuck you now," he says, and then does exactly that.

His strokes are smooth and controlled at first, and he changes the angle every few thrusts. And then he hits Peter's prostate and Peter has to fight the howl that wants to tear from his chest.

"There, then," Stiles says. And then he starts pounding that spot relentlessly, fucking hard and fast. Peter loses his ability to think. If it wasn't for the tight grip at the base of his cock, he would have come again already. "Next time you're wearing a cock ring."

Peter moans and nods. "Anything."

"Gonna wreck you," Stiles says, his voice tight now, and Peter realizes he's close to coming himself.

Which makes him letting go of Peter's cock make sense. 

"Go on and come for me now," Stiles says, panting now, grunting with his thrusts. 

Given permission, Peter lets go. The orgasm has been building up on itself while Stiles held it off, and now he comes harder than he's ever come in his life. He sprays all over himself, and Stiles growls and thrusts hard before going still and tense as he orgasms. Peter can't feel it, not really, but knowing he's being marked inside with Stiles's come is enough to make his dick twitch and let go of one more spurt.

Peter floats, wrung out but pleasantly buzzing, until Stiles is wiping him down with a warm cloth. Not magic. He could have just banished the mess away, but Stiles is doing it this way for a reason.

The touch is grounding. Needed. That must be why.

There's a straw at his lips and he sucks some sweet hydration down. He didn't realize he was so thirsty. Then the straw is gone again.

Peter opens his eyes and Stiles pulls him close. Peter doesn't ask for reassurance but it's what he's craving.

Stiles seems to understand that, too. "You were perfect, baby. My sweet boy."

"Mm," Peter answers, and closes his eyes. Snuggles closer into Stiles's warmth and scent.

He hears Stiles laugh softly and feels a soft kiss on his forehead. 

Peter is warm, surrounded by caring arms and a familiar, safe scent. He's utterly worn out but happier than he can remember being, ever. He's able to drift off to sleep without a single worry.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more intense, emotionally.

When Talia tells Peter she wants to speak with him when he gets home from school, he isn't sure what to expect. It sounds important, which makes him nervous, but he tries to put it out of his mind throughout the day.

What little homework he has he completes over lunch and his study period. So once he gets home, he goes straight to Talia's office and (after touching his cat's eye bracelet) knocks.

Talia ushers him in and offers him a seat. She stands, however. Paces. It seems she's nervous, too, though Peter's not sure why.

"Stiles is setting new wards on the property and the house," Talia tells him. "He'll set the last of it all on Samhain. He's told me what we need to make the wards as strong as possible. Laura has to participate, as my heir. And also, I need a formal second."

She stops speaking and Peter takes a moment to understand. "Second in command, you mean?"

Talia nods.

"So… Richard?" Peter asks. He thinks that makes the most sense.

But Talia is already shaking her head. "I rely on Richard a lot for emotional support. He's my husband and my mate, after all. But he's not who I turn to when I need help with the pack. He's not the packmate who's learned all the lore and traditions. I don't turn to him in a crisis unless I need a shoulder to cry on. I always go to you when I need information. It's happened more and more frequently in the past year. I don't know if you've noticed, but I've already given you the position informally."

Peter isn't sure what to think. Everything Talia is saying is true, but he's still… he thought Talia still saw him as a child. 

"I know what you're thinking," Talia says. "And I'm sorry. I've seen in the past few weeks that you're an adult, and not just a valuable member of the pack, but an integral one. I didn't even realize I was already giving you the duties of a second because we haven't faced any real challenges." She makes a face and knocks on the wood of her desk. 

Peter smirks at her superstition and she rolls her eyes at him.

For a moment, they're just siblings. Then they both seem to remember this is a serious meeting between Alpha and beta.

"Will you take the position, Peter?" Talia asks.

"I always assumed I'd become your enforcer," Peter murmurs. 

Talia nods thoughtfully. "We're a small pack, and we stay out of supernatural politics for the most part. Hopefully I'll never need anyone to fill that position."

Personally, Peter thinks they'd do well to play a little politics here and there, but he keeps this to himself for the moment. He may bring it up at a better time, when Talia is more likely to listen. Peter's only just stepping into his new position. He doesn't want to push it.

"I'll be your second," Peter says. "And I'll be happy to help set the new wards."

Talia smiles. "Thank you, Peter. I'll let Stiles know."

"He's going to leave as soon as he's finished setting the wards," Peter says without thinking.

Talia's face goes serious. "I know." She looks at him like she's expecting him to reveal more, but he's not going to. He has enough trouble dealing with his feelings himself. He doesn't want to share.

"Was that all?" Peter asks, making it obvious he's not going to talk about Stiles.

Talia tilts her head. "For now."

Peter groans inwardly, knowing Talia is going to expect him to talk about this sooner or later. He's hoping for later.

* * *

"I think he might love me," Stiles tells Scott. They're Skyping for the first time in weeks, and he's tried to get his best friend up to date on everything going on. He pretty much has to. They have an agreement, so Stiles won't get in over his head. He tells Scott everything he's angsting over and Scott is allowed to offer advice. Stiles doesn't have to follow the advice, but Scott's allowed to give it and Stiles has to _listen_.

"Well at least you didn't say you think he _thinks_ he loves you," Scott says. "That's an improvement."

Stiles blinks at his best friend's image on his computer screen. "Maybe he just-"

Scott cuts him off. "Stop. You said what you meant the first time."

Stiles deflates. "Yeah."

"And the problem is…?" Scott asks, drawing the last word out dramatically.

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I want him to experience life after I leave. I don't want him hung up on something we can't have."

Scott's eyebrows shoot up.

"Shit. I mean." Stiles can't even finish his sentence. He scrubs his hands over his face. "I can't do this."

"Is he going to college?" Scott says, apparently taking pity.

"We haven't talked about it much, but Talia says he definitely is, so I'm gonna go with yes," Stiles says dryly.

"How long are you going to give him until you come back to him?" Scott says.

But Stiles shakes his head. "No. That's not the plan."

"Really." Scott gives him a very judgemental look. "Because if you ask me, that's exactly where this is headed. You leave, you give him space, then you come back when you think he's adult enough to make the big decision."

"It's not a question of him being an adult, Scott. He is an adult or there's no way I'd be in a relationship with him to begin with."

The look on Scott's face is very unimpressed. "Let me rephrase it to 'when you think he's had enough life experience', then."

And it's kind of true. Stiles has been thinking along those lines, especially since Peter's birthday weekend. "I don't know how long that will be. And… I haven't decided yet what I'm doing once I leave. I mean, I've told him I'm not disappearing from his life. I've made contacts in Beacon Hills and work will definitely bring me back from time to time. But beyond that… dude. I don't _know_."

"Okay, so think about it. Let's try going over it now," Scott says.

"You sound really excited to be meddling in my love life," Stiles mutters.

"You really care about him," Scott says. "I'm not going to let yourself be miserable. There's no way you're letting him go completely."

Stiles gives a token protest. "I haven't decided!"

"Your microphone might be shit, but I don't need to hear your heartbeat to know how close to a lie you're skirting."

"Why do I have to be best friends with someone who knows me so damn well?" Stiles asks the empty room.

Scott laughs. "Okay, so… you're going to leave but you'll go back to Beacon Hills from time to time for business. You might even go just for Peter, once you stop being so stubborn. So… maybe you'll renegotiate, scene together when you're in town, spend time with him. Sound about right?"

"If… if he doesn't move on. If he agrees," Stiles says. "But there's no guarantee he will."

"If you love something, set it free, right?" Scott says.

"I still haven't said that. I haven't said I love him," Stiles says. 

"And why not?" Scott asks.

"Isn't that like emotional blackmail?"

"What kind of mental gymnastics are you doing over there, Stiles?"

"If I tell him I love him, he's going to feel like he owes that back. And then if he has a chance to move on, maybe he won't take it. Because of how I feel."

"Do you _want_ him to move on?" Scott asks.

"At this point, I want what's best for Peter. For him to be happy, and healthy, and well cared for. I want him to have a Dom who loves him and understands his needs."

"Stiles, he already has that with you," Scott points out.

"He can't stay with the first Dom to ever treat him right, Scott, that's not healthy! Maybe there's someone out there even better for him, and I'm not standing in the way of that. No way."

"So the relationship you have with him after you leave, it's going to be open?" Scott asks.

"It has to be," Stiles says.

"You're okay with that?" Scott asks.

"It's the best thing for both of us," Stiles says firmly. "Peter needs as many good experiences as he can get. He needs to meet other Doms, switches. He needs a healthy sex life, and I'm not going to be around to make sure he gets what he needs. You know what it's like. You showed me how bad it can be when a werewolf sub isn't getting what he needs. And if I'm not here, he can't very well get what he needs, can he?"  
"I'm just going on the record now to say you're making this overly complicated and angsty," Scott says seriously. "You're going to hate every minute you're away from him, and you're probably going to get jealous, and even if you're _not_ jealous, you're going to be _pining_."

Stiles makes a scoffing noise, but inside he's not really disagreeing that much with what Scott is saying. But, "Does it really matter that much how I feel about it? I'm doing what's best for Peter."

"Oh my god, you're gonna be a martyr about it! I… that's even worse!"

Stiles laughs. "Shut up, dude. I'm gonna see other people, too." At least, that's the plan.

"You should at least tell him you love him," Scott says. "That's my advice. Let him know you're not doing all this because you don't want to be with him."

"I think he already understands that much."

Scott shakes his head. "If he's as smart as you say he is, sure. Unless he sees your leaving as abandonment. Then maybe you've got a problem."

"I've talked with him about this already. He knows I'm not really _leaving_ him."

"He'd know it better if you explained all this," Scott says. "Not to mention, maybe he'll talk some sense into you so you don't feel like you have to run away."

"That's not what I'm doing," Stiles protests.

"Sure sounds like it," Scott tells him. "And I know you're thinking of your ongoing education, too, but can't you get some more hands-on experience with the Hale pack? It sounds like the Alpha is willing to let you, after what you told me about the full moon rites."

"I don't want to get too involved with the Hales. What if-"

"Whoa," Scott says. "I think you're already about involved with that pack as you can be without being the formal Emissary. You know?"

"There's still some other things I need to learn, knowledge I'm not going to find here."

"Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Scott asks fondly. 

"You're pretty stubborn yourself, dude."

Stiles feels a slight disturbance on the edge of his cottage's wards. He recognizes the energy as Peter's. "Hey, I'm gonna cut this short. Peter's here and he's excited about something."

"Oh, so that's your Peter smile?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and stops trying to hide his grin. "Talk to you later, man." He ends the call.

* * *

Stiles opens the door and Peter grins at him.

"Talia made me her second," Peter says, bouncing a little.

Stiles raises his eyebrows. "Congratulations." He pulls Peter closer and kisses him lightly. 

Peter has a thought and pulls back to look at his Dom. "You didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"

"I told her she needed a formal second for the wards," Stiles says. "She chose you on her own."

Peter's relieved. And also a little awed. "All this time I thought she saw me as a child. Just her little brother."

"You'll always be her little brother," Stiles points out. "But I think she respects you as an adult now."

Peter smiles. "I think so, too."

Stiles grins and reels Peter back in so he's close. "And since you're an adult, with all adult privileges, I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to _les Pleurs_ next weekend?"

"Um, yes. Definitely," Peter says, his mind reeling. "Why now?"

"If you're up for it, I'd like to show my sweet boy off," Stiles says. "And it's a good club. You should be able to see it on the inside."

Peter knows Stiles is teasing with the last remark, but it's true. Peter's spent so much time on the outside, waiting to go in. "Thank you."

"I want you to feel comfortable there, too. With the staff, with any regular subs…" 

Peter blinks, not understanding. "Why?"

Stiles sighs. "For when I'm not here."

And really, Peter doesn't want another Dom, even though he knows he needs one. Maybe more than one, if he keeps everything casual, because he can't see himself getting involved with someone monogamously, romantically, who isn't Stiles.

"Please, sir… I don't want to think about it right now," Peter whispers. He feels tears sting his eyes and turns his head so Stiles won't see.

But Stiles isn't having it. He takes Peter's chin in hand and tilts it back to him. "Peter."

Peter closes his eyes. The tears escape and track down his cheeks. He hears Stiles make a wounded sound and then Stiles is holding him tightly, and he's clinging back.

"I'm sorry," Peter gasps. He's sorry for crying, for ruining this. Their time together is supposed to be happy and precious, and he's making it something else. Because he was dumb enough to fall in love with his first Dom, like some kind of joke he's heard about other pathetic subs. He wasn't supposed to be like that. He's supposed to be an adult. He's supposed to handle this, and if he can't, he's supposed to keep it to himself.

"Oh, baby. You have no idea how hard this is on me, too," Stiles tells him.

"It's not the same. It can't be," Peter sniffles. He doesn't ever want to leave Stiles's arms and it's killing him.

But Stiles pulls back, holds him at arm's length. Peter sees that Stiles's eyes are wet, too. Which doesn't make sense. Stiles shakes his head. "It is the same. I promise. I… I _love_ you, Peter."  
And Peter doesn't know how to answer that. He doesn't even know how to believe it. He swallows thickly and says, "But you're leaving."

Stiles gives him a sad smile. "I am. But I'll come back. I can't just steal you away, can I? You still have some living to do without me. And there are some experiences I can show you but some things you just have to go through on your own."

"You don't have to leave completely, though," Peter says, and then admits, "I love you, too. And I don't want to be with anyone else."

"Sweetheart…"

"No, this isn't fair," Peter says, pulling away completely. "You love me. You want to be with me. But you'll force me to go to other Doms because… why?"

Stiles looked shocked, and hurt. "I'm not… forcing you, baby, I'm… I'm trying to make sure you have a full life, and that you're absolutely sure you want to be with me before… Because what if you meet someone who's perfect for you, better than I am? I wouldn't keep you from that. I want you to be the happiest you can be."

" _You_ are perfect for me, Stiles!" Peter says. "Don't do this. Don't run away."

But it's already over. Stiles is too stubborn to have his mind changed this easily. He's convinced this is the right thing to do, and he's not going to listen to reason. Peter can see it in his eyes.

Peter shakes his head. He's more pissed off than sad, now. "I can't talk to you anymore right now."

"Baby…"

"No." Peter doesn't storm out, doesn't slam the door. But he does leave.


	18. Chapter 18

"Alright, broody. What's the problem?" Marin asks. They're eating lunch under the bleachers today because Peter doesn't want to be around a lot of people. It's bad enough being in class with everyone, feeling in turns dejected and angry at Stiles. At least at lunch he can get away.

He can't get away from Marin, though.

"It's nothing," he mutters.

Marin rolls her eyes. "Oh, bullshit. What's going on? Is it Stiles? What am I saying, of course it's Stiles."

"He told me he loves me," Peter says, scowling.

Marin's eyes widen. "And this isn't great news because…?"

"He's still leaving," Peter says. He looks around, doesn't see anyone listening in. In a low voice, he says, "What do you know about werewolf subs?"

Marin frowns. "I know you're really rare, for some reason," she answers.

Peter sighs. "Yeah, and that's why hardly anybody understands that we're different from other subs. If we don't hit subspace on a regular basis, we kind of go off the rails. We have trouble with our control, and other problems… I don't know, it's a mess. So when Stiles leaves, I can't just decide not to have another Dom. It's like he's forcing me into a situation I don't want."

"Okay. Okay, I can see where you'd see it like that," Marin says. "But Stiles can't control the specific needs of your dynamic. If you were a human sub, this wouldn't be an issue, but that's not Stiles's fault."

"He doesn't have to leave!" Peter says. "But he thinks I should be with other people and get more experience or something. So the other Dom thing is something he wants, even!"

"I understand you're angry, and hurt-"

"Marin, I'm not a psychotherapy patient," Peter says, annoyed. "Don't patronize me."

Marin gives an unimpressed lift of one eyebrow. "Do you want my advice or not?"

"I don't know," Peter says mulishly. "Depends on what it is."

"Maybe there's more to this than you're seeing," she says. "Maybe Stiles has.. I don't know, _issues_. Maybe he has reasons he hasn't told you."

Peter blinks because why didn't he think of that? "That's… entirely possible."

"You have to think of his point of view, too," she says. "It's okay to be angry with him, but take his feelings into account as well. He said he loves you. He's not pushing you away because he doesn't want you. Maybe he thinks he doesn't deserve you. Or maybe he's been through something that makes him think his way is the best way."

"Well, he is a Dom," Peter says dryly and Marin laughs.

"True. But you know what I mean."

Peter sighs. "Yeah. But I think there's something here I'm missing, now that you bring it up. And I don't understand. So… I don't know."

There's one person who might understand, though. Another sub. An adult.

If he knew her better, he'd ask Ms. Blake. She's a magic user, too. Maybe that has something to do with it. But he doesn't trust anyone as much as he trusts pack, so he'll go to Alex.

Alex always gives it to him straight when he needs to hear it.

* * *

Alex nods and motions him to sit before Peter even says he needs to talk. When Peter asks why, Alex says, "Well, I've been expecting this."

Peter slouches over the table and puts his head in his arms. "I feel like one of those subs I always made fun of." It comes out a little muffled but Alex seems to understand.

"And I always told you not to make fun of them," Alex says.

"So… you saw this coming?" Peter asks, picking his head up enough to look at the older sub.

"Let's talk about what 'this' is, first," Alex says. "You're in love with your Dom and he's leaving. Does that about cover it?"

"He told me he loved me," Peter says. The anger is mostly gone at the moment, and he just feels bereft and confused again. "How can that be true? He's hell bent on leaving."

"I'd be more concerned if he planned to stay with you," Alex says, shocking Peter.

"Wh-What?" Peter asks. "I don't…" He trails off, unsure.

"Stiles is almost thirty. You're eighteen," Alex says. "That's a serious age gap when you're young, and I'm sure Stiles is very conscious of it. Not to mention he's your first relationship, your first Dom. It would be very easy for him to manipulate you into doing things you aren't comfortable with."

"Stiles wouldn't do that," Peter says softly.

But Alex goes on like he didn't speak. "It would be easy for Stiles to take advantage of your lack of experience. And I'm not even saying he'd do it intentionally, but what if you didn't know something and he assumed you did? Even a misunderstanding like that can snowball into something like abuse. Right now you aren't experienced enough to know the difference. I imagine Stiles is thinking of things like that, of how he'd feel if he inadvertently put you into that situation. Of how much you could be hurt if that happened."

Peter exhales shakily. "We communicate. And he's perceptive." He thinks about the time he hesitated safewording. How many other times might that happen?

"You can't rely on Stiles to catch everything. You need to grow into yourself, see? And you can't do that if you jump into the deep end without learning how to swim."

"I don't want other Doms," Peter says. "I already trust Stiles, I…" He sighs. "But I see what you're saying."

Alex takes his hands. "Take some time to live," he says slowly, emphasis on every word. "If the two of you are meant to be, he'll be back. But in the meantime, there's a whole world you can explore and discover by yourself. Learn all your strengths and weaknesses and how to work with them. Learn to be independent of a Dom, and how to work with some who aren't Stiles. And then if he comes back, maybe then you can be with him. Or maybe you'll meet the love of your life and Stiles will just be a happy memory."

Peter frowns.

"Don't count anything out," Alex says. "You've got so much life ahead of you. I almost envy you."

"I'm pretty sure _Stiles_ is the love of my life," Peter says quietly. 

"He might be. I thought my first three Doms were it for me. And then a few after that, not so much. By the time I met Elpha I was jaded. But… she showed me a thing or two. There's nothing like a werewolf Dom," Alex says with a twinkle in his eye. Peter gives him an unimpressed look and Alex laughs and pats his hands. "You're going to be just fine, Peter."

"But you think Stiles is right about everything," Peter says.

"Everything? I don't know. But about leaving so you can do some growing up? Absolutely." Alex grins. "I'm starting to think he might be good enough for you."

* * *

Stiles has spent a lot of time meditating since Peter left the day before. He knows he can't go chasing after him, as much as he wants to. So, to keep himself under control and not running to the main house the moment he feels Peter set foot on the property after school, Stiles meditates some more.

This time, in some extremely strenuous yoga poses. He centers his life force and concentrates on his magic staying put. He has to. It's been harder to manage since he saw Peter with tears in his eyes and thought, _I did this to him._

He's also been especially concerned with the way Peter said Stiles was forcing him to be with other Doms when he didn't want to. Stiles knows it's not his responsibility, and yet… it got to him. It's still getting to him. He feels like he's betrayed his sub.

A light bulb explodes from energy buildup and Stiles stops what he's doing. "Fuck." He floats the glass into the the garbage can.

At least it's only happened twice so far, and it's easy enough to gather the glass with magic.

He feels the hum of his protections letting him know Peter is nearby. He opens the door before his sub gets the chance to knock.

Peter stands there and Stiles just looks at him. Peter doesn't look angry, or sad. Which is good, but now Stiles is confused. 

"Can I come in?" Peter asks.

"Anytime," Stiles says, making way for Peter to walk in. "You're always welcome."

"Still? Even after crying all over you and then-"

Stiles cuts him off with a simple, "Yes."

Peter lets out a breath. "Okay. Thank you."

"And you can cry on me anytime you need," Stiles reminds him.

Peter looks at him. Then he walks closer and looks deeper. "You look like you haven't slept."

Stiles gives a faint smile. "Hard to sleep after hearing the things you said."

"I think I was wrong," Peter says.

Stiles shakes his head. "You weren't. Not totally. You told me how you see it. That was important."

"But you're right," Peter tells him. "I may not understand why, but… I'm going to trust you on this."

"Just like that?" Stiles asks.

And then Peter takes a step closer before gracefully falling to his knees in front of him. "Yes, sir."

It's a beautiful gesture, and Peter looks up at him with his big blue eyes and Stiles is caught, captured. He can't imagine not loving this boy. He's been doomed from the start. He doesn't want to be anywhere but with Peter, and he can't believe he captured Peter's heart as well. 

But they have a long way to go before they can be together. Stiles knows this. And maybe… maybe Peter knows, too.

* * *

**Peter's Creative Writing Journal**  
Friday, October 12

The topic today is providing, but I want to write about something else. I want to revisit the idea of surrender.

I didn't really understand what it meant to surrender the first time this topic came up. I wondered if I could truly surrender when I knew my Dom would be leaving.

Now I am surrendering to him, knowing he's leaving, and trusting in him to come back to me. I'm surrendering because I love him and he loves me. I'm surrendering because he's the best thing in my life, but he wants my life to be bigger than just him. 

Surrendering means not clinging too hard to him. I'm giving my wellbeing over to his will. Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe this is the wrong way to go about it. But I trust him. He only wants what's best for me. So he'll leave and I'll go on with my life. I'll date. I'll scene. I'll grow into the man I'm meant to be.

I just hope once I've become someone new and strong and independent, we both still want the same things.

That's all. Time's up. I surrender.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all outdid yourselves with your comments on that last chapter. some really thoughtful ones came out of it, and I'm looking forward to seeing what you think about this one.
> 
> still unbeta'd.

Stiles dresses Peter for the club. His jeans are tight, nearly painted on, and the royal blue v-neck is thin enough to show off his perky nipples. Not to mention the hickeys on his throat.

"I look okay?" Peter asks. He's glad Stiles didn't expect him to wear any fetish wear on his first night out. He's not quite ready for that. He may never be.

"One more detail," Stiles says, and presents a box. "It's just temporary, but… will you wear my cuff tonight?"

Peter looks in the box and nods. It's a simple black leather cuff with a silver buckle. "Will you put it on me?" he asks hopefully. And then he raises his arm. His left arm.

"I'd love to, baby," Stiles murmurs. He buckles it onto Peter's wrist. It's not a permanent cuff, it's obvious just from looking at its styling that it's not, but putting it on Peter's left is symbolic. It means something. Stiles runs his fingers over the cuff once it's on and looks into Peter's eyes. 

Stiles could have refused, gone for Peter's right wrist instead. Peter would have played it off as ignorance and Stiles would have let him, even though they'd both know the truth. But that didn't happen. 

Peter puts his hand over Stiles's. There's a quiet moment and then Stiles is leaning in, kissing Peter's forehead with reverence. "Thank you," Stiles says.

Peter lets his smile be his answer.

* * *

The club isn't as dark as Peter expected it to be. Once they get through reception, the walls are a gray-blue with dark wood trim. There's a bar and several tables in the room they first enter. He takes in everyone, the singles, the couples, the groups of three and four. It's not crowded, but there are a good number of people populating the club.

Peter's nervous, but excited. Even though he keeps looking around, he's still mostly focused on Stiles.

Stiles looks stunning. He's dressed in a loose black button shirt with cuffs rolled up to show off his forearms. His trousers are black as well. Tailored to fit well, but by magic. Peter watched him do it.

He's hyperaware of the cuff on his wrist. Of what it means. The weight of it, the way it feels against his skin, how it brushes against his hip as he walks. He notices eyes catching on the cuff as people look over at them when they walk into the room. He sees eyes go directly from his wrist to Stiles, making that connection. It sends a jolt of pleasure and pride through him. It's a warmth that continues to spread the more eyes look on. Some look on with envy, or appreciation. Some with disappointment. One person narrows their eyes, and Peter can practically read their mind. They are weighing the risk versus reward for approaching.

Peter turns away from their eyes and moves closer to Stiles. Not because he's uncomfortable, but to send a message. _Not interested._

He feels that particular gaze move off, move on.

He likes the way the cuff makes him feel. More connected to his dynamic. Softer, somehow. Less sharp edges and more flowing lines. Half-lidded, he follows Stiles, trusting in him to lead.

Stiles leads him over to a table. "You can sit in the other chair, in my lap, or you can kneel at my feet. Your call."

"Which would you prefer, sir?" Peter asks. Because really, he only wants to please Stiles tonight.

Stiles smiles, and Peter can tell he's satisfied with the answer. "On my lap."

Peter sits across Stiles's lap and Stiles brings an arm up to hold him steady. 

"You're being such a good boy," Stiles murmurs in Peter's ear. "I know you were nervous, but I'm here. I won't let anything bad happen, baby."

Peter smiles and rests his head on Stiles's shoulder. He can tell Stiles likes that in the way he tightens his arm around him. 

Stiles kisses his head. "I'm going to introduce you to some people in a little while, but right now I just want you to relax. Are you thirsty?"

"No, sir," Peter answers.

The music is slow and syrupy right now, as opposed to the dark bass that was playing when they first came in. Stiles hums along to the vocals, soft against Peter's ear, and rocks him just a little. Peter feels… hazy. Floaty. Like he's a step away from hitting subspace and they haven't done anything.

A dark-skinned Alpha werewolf with all the confidence of a Domme comes to their table and stops, smiling at them both. "Stiles. I'm so happy you brought your boy to meet us."

"Kali," Stiles says, straightening a little. Peter picks his head up. He knows that name.

He wants to ask her if she's Ms. Blake's wife but he hasn't been spoken to yet and he does have some sense of propriety.

She's beautiful, and has a powerful presence. She's wearing a tasteful black sleeveless bodysuit and no shoes. 

Stiles turns to him. "Kali recently became one of the owners of this club," he says. "She and her wife moved to Beacon Hills a few months ago and already she's taking over."

Kali laughs. 

"This is my sub, Peter Hale." The way Stiles just announces it makes Peter feel even warmer inside.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Peter murmurs. 

"Aren't you adorable," Kali says with a grin. 

Peter smiles back. "Your wife, is that Jennifer Blake?"

Kali tilts her head. "She is indeed. How do you know Jen?"

"She's my favorite teacher," Peter admits. 

"Peter's a senior at Beacon Hills High," Stiles says.

Kali lifts an eyebrow. "Newly eighteen?"

Instead of answering her, Peter… blushes bright red, because he's reminded of his birthday weekend. Thankfully, Stiles takes pity on him and hugs him close. "He is."

"Such a lovely blush. I'm sure there's a story there," Kali says, but she doesn't sound like she's going to press.

Stiles smirks. Peter isn't looking at him but he can hear it in his voice. "There is." He brushes Peter's red cheek with gentle fingertips.

"Hmm. Are you two here to play tonight, or just enjoy the ambiance?" Kali asks.

Stiles answers, "This is Peter's first time at a club and I wanted him to get acquainted with the place, maybe meet some of the staff. We already went over all the rules at home, but knowing and experiencing aren't the same thing."

Peter nods his agreement the same time Kali does.

Kali waves her hand at someone and turns to Peter. "You should meet our bartender."

"Yes, ma'am?" asks a big man who looks like his muscles work out on their own. He's also an Alpha werewolf, Peter can tell from his presence, but…

"This is Ennis," Kali says. "Ennis, this is Peter. He's a newbie."

"You're a _sub_?" Peter gasps out. He would be embarrassed by it but he can't think of anything past _Alpha werewolf sub_.

Ennis grins. Kali rolls her eyes. 

"I imagine you get that kind of reaction a lot," Stiles says dryly.

"I'm sorry, I just. I… I don't. You're the first other werewolf sub I've met, but you're an Alpha, so it's…"

"Blowing your mind?" Ennis asks. Thank god he seems so good-natured.

Peter can't wait until he gets the chance to tell Marin about this.

"Go talk to him, baby," Stiles whispers in Peter's ear. "Get to know him. Ask your questions." Peter wonders why he bothers whispering around Alphas, but then he realizes Stiles probably put a damper on the sound so only Peter could hear him.

Magic is so interesting, and so hot.

Peter nods and tilts his neck for Stiles to kiss his throat. He does it instinctively, probably more so because of who's watching. Stiles seems to understand. He teases Peter's throat with his teeth and sucks hard. Then he whispers his magic. Peter shivers, not just at the sensations, but the emotions behind it. 

Stiles lets go and Peter slides off his lap to talk to Ennis. Kali sits down with Stiles, seemingly intent on having a conversation.

"C'mon, kid," Ennis says, and leads him over to the bar. There's someone sitting there but Ennis motions to the end where it's quiet. Ennis settles behind the bar and gives Peter a cold bottle of water. "So this room is what we call the lounge. It's a good place to meet people, or set up dates, or negotiate. Not a lot of play goes on in here." He reaches under the bar and takes out what looks like a floorplan with fire exits posted on it. He points to each room as he names and describes them. Apparently there's a lot more to the club than what Peter's seen so far.

Ennis stops talking when he realizes Peter's overwhelmed. 

"I don't know how to pick a good Dom," Peter admits.

Ennis frowns. "Looks like you have a good one."

Peter sighs. "It's a temporary contract. He's leaving after Samhain."

Ennis looks down at Peter's cuff. On his left wrist.

Peter runs his fingers over the cuff and sighs again. "It's complicated," he says.

"Yeah, love usually is," Ennis says. "At least until you get your shit figured out."

"Do you have a Dom?" Peter asks.

"Casually, yeah. The owner of this place, Deuc, he's a good guy. He and I scene on a regular basis, but it's an open relationship and there aren't really a lot of romantic feelings there."

"Is he a werewolf?" Peter asks.

"Yep. And he's an Alpha, too. So while maybe a beta werewolf Dom would have some misgivings about sceneing with me, some Alphas get off on it. Deuc seems to, anyway."

Peter nods slowly. "I guess that makes sense?"

Ennis shrugs. "It works for us. And that's what's important, finding something that works for you. Maybe it's not conventional, but I get what I need from Deuc and that's what matters."

"Okay so… I just come in and let an Alpha buy me a drink?" Peter asks, a little uncertain.

"If it's nonalcoholic, sure," Ennis says with a smile. "You're still too young to drink."

Peter rolls his eyes. "Right. But same idea, right?"

"Sure. You meet eyes across the room, you make contact, you talk. Maybe negotiate something, or maybe just get to know each other better. Then you can either say no thanks, or you can plan to meet up another time, or you decide to go on back to one of the rooms."

"Just like that?" Peter asks.

"Once you get into the swing of things, sure," Ennis tells him. "But you don't have to. Sometimes it's safer to scene at the club, though. Go into one of the public rooms, or even the semi-private rooms and you've got people there to watch. Maybe they're there because they're voyeurs, but the regulars here are good. If something looks wrong, if you try to safeword or look like you're really not enjoying yourself, someone will step in, make sure you're okay."

Peter nods, feeling nothing but relief. "Thanks."

* * *

Stiles takes Peter back to see the other rooms. There are some people playing, some people watching, and Peter sticks close to Stiles.

"Do you want to try to scene here, baby?" Stiles asks him quietly.

It's exciting and new but Peter's had enough of the club for now. He shakes his head. "Take me home?"

"I'd love to," Stiles says, and gives him a deep kiss that leaves Peter weak in the knees. Then Stiles escorts Peter out and they drive back to Stiles's cottage.

Once there, Peter snuggles against Stiles on the sofa. 

"Did you want something, sweetheart?" Stiles asks.

Peter hums. "Can I leave the cuff on for awhile?"

"You like it, huh?" Stiles says. "Yeah, you can leave it on as long as you want."

Peter nods. "Can... can I keep it?" He doesn't look at Stiles, in case the answer is no.

Stiles kisses the top of Peter's head. "Yeah, baby."

Peter relaxes. "I like how it makes me feel."

"Hm. Will you tell me?" Stiles asks.

"Softer. Like I'm closer to subspace but not quite there. I feel… more like myself like this, too," Peter says. He growls in frustration. "I don't know the words to describe it."

"You did a good job, baby," Stiles says. "Come sit on my lap again. Straddle me this time."

Peter moves eagerly into position, swinging his knees on either side of his Dom's lap, and looks down at Stiles. "Like this?"

Stiles grins and pinches one of Peter's nipples through his thin shirt. "Perfect."

Peter shivers at the touch. 

"You were so good tonight," Stiles says. "I was proud to show you off."

"Even though we didn't really… do anything?" Peter asks, looking away. 

"Baby, we don't have to scene for everyone to see how lucky I am. Look at yourself," Stiles says. "You're gorgeous. That blue matches your eyes, and these jeans hug your ass just right." He makes his point by cupping Peter's ass in both hands. "That's just the outside. And I'm proud to have my cuff on your wrist."

Peter looks up again, locks eyes with Stiles. Sees the sincerity in his Dom's gaze. He thinks he understands now that Stiles doesn't really want to leave him. Not just understands, but believes in his heart. He wants to ask if Stiles believes that one day he'll be wearing a permanent cuff on his left wrist. One Stiles puts there. 

"You're thinking too much," Stiles says, then slides a hand up Peter's back to tangle in his hair. He pulls and Peter bares his throat, mind quieting instantly. "When you did this in front of the other werewolves, you made me so proud. They got to watch me put my mark on you." He kisses the hickey on Peter's neck, lips gentle and sweet. 

"I'm yours, sir," Peter gasps, and wiggles closer so his ass grinds against Stiles's cock. Peter's pleased that it's hard, happy to be turning Stiles on. Making him want.

Stiles makes a deep, pleased noise and slides a hand down the back of Peter's jeans. It's a tight fit. "Can I take these off, baby?" Stiles asks, and Peter gasps.

"Yes. Please," Peter says.

Stiles laughs softly. "Mm, so eager. Do you want to be naked on my lap? Want to ride me right here?"

"Oh yes sir," Peter tells him, sudden heat rushing through him.

The scent of Stiles's magic is heavier tonight, and the frisson of energy it leaves in the air much stronger. After Stiles removes Peter's clothes, he says, "I want to mark you tonight. I want to give you something that will last awhile."

Peter likes the idea, but he's curious to know more. He wriggles his naked body against Stiles, thrilled by the feel of Stiles's clothes against his skin. He wonders if Stiles will take off his pants or just open up his fly and fuck him with his clothes on. "What kind of mark?" Peter asks.

"Like a magical tattoo," Stiles says. He runs his hands over Peter's chest, thumbing the sensitive nipples. "Nothing permanent, but something to decorate your beautiful skin for a few days."

Peter thinks of how close Samhain is. "Just a few days?"

Stiles leans in and kisses him, then sucks hard on his bottom lip. "I can refresh it if you want it for longer. Just a few days at first."

Peter melts into the kiss and nearly whimpers when Stiles pulls away. "What would it be?" 

Stiles's hands are everywhere on Peter's skin, like he can't get enough of touching. Which is good, because Peter can't get enough of being touched. Stiles seems to be thinking as he drags fingertips down Peter's spine to tease his cleft. Then, right before he touches Peter's hole, he pulls his hands back and around to Peter's chest again. Peter tries not to whine.

"Here," Stiles says, flattening a hand over Peter's heart. "Dagaz. It was the first rune I studied intensely, and the first rune I put on my body. It means-"

"Day," Peter says. "Dawn. Positive change."

Stiles smiles. "Very good. It's a good rune for looking into a positive future. For when you're awakening."

And Peter gets that. Ever since he met Stiles, he's been waking up to possibilities. To his future. And when Stiles is gone, he'll continue on his own.

"It can also mean fundamental change," Stiles says. "Which… you've given me that. You've made me want things I haven't wanted before."

Peter doesn't know what Stiles is referring to but he hopes. 

"Will it do anything?" Peter asks.

Stiles shakes his head. "Not without your will. Without that, it's just a pretty mark on your skin I get to put there."

"Okay," Peter says. "Will it hurt?"

Stiles tilts his head. "Do you want it to hurt?"

"I want to feel it. Maybe not like a brand, but… if it was warm, if it felt like your magic… yeah."

"Like a magical bruise?" Stiles asks. "You won't feel it most of the time but if you press on it, it'll hurt a little. You'll be able to feel it like that."

Peter's only had bruises when Stiles has put them there, but he likes them. He likes touching them, likes the way they feel when he presses down on them and they ache. Knowing Stiles has been watching him, cataloging what he likes, makes him feel warm.

"Yes. Like a bruise."

"Okay. Here, let me…" Stiles says, and closes his eyes. Then he takes a finger and traces the rune against Peter's skin and the scent of magic explodes in the air. The path of Stiles's finger is hot, but not burning.

Peter's cock is hard and throbbing now. He wants Stiles's touch all over him. Needs him inside, too. He's been empty since the last time Stiles fucked him, and he wants it back. Needs it.

He whimpers and wriggles on Stiles's lap. Stiles smacks his ass and says, "Hold still."

The slap stings, then spreads more warmth. Peter breathes easier.

Then Stiles pulls his hand away from Peter's heart, looking at his mark on Peter's skin. Peter looks down, smiles when he sees the same rune he knows Stiles has over his own heart.

It's personal to Stiles. Peter gets it.

"Now," Stiles says, "I'm going to teach you how to ride my cock."

Peter feels his eyes widen. "Yes, sir."

Stiles slides his hands down Peter's back. Every touch is warmth sinking into Peter's skin. Peter doesn't smell the magic this time because there's already so much magic in the air, but he definitely feels the slickness against his hole when Stiles's fingers arrive there.

"I love you like this," Stiles says, playing with Peter's rim, his slick fingertips making Peter whimper.

It doesn't take long to prepare Peter this time. Stiles is thorough, but everything goes so much more easily this time around. It helps that Peter knows how to help, how to push back against Stiles's fingers, how to let it happen.

"You open up so pretty for me," Stiles whispers in Peter's ear. "You're such a good boy. My perfect, pretty slut."

It gives Peter such a thrill to hear Stiles say those words. All of them, not just the dirty ones. He wants to be good for Stiles and he wants to be his slut. He wants to be everything he can be, as long as that's what they both want.

Stiles's fingers are thick but not enough. Peter whines, wanting more. 

"Okay, baby. You'll get it. Want you to ask first, though," Stiles says. His voice is deep and dominating, just how Peter likes it.

Peter knows what Stiles wants to hear, and he's happy to give it to him. "Please, sir, can I… I need it. I need your cock, sir. Please fuck me."

"You gonna be a good boy and ride me?" Stiles asks.

Peter nods. "Yes, sir. Please. _Please_ let me ride your cock."

Stiles slips his fingers out and holds Peter's hips, guiding him right where he wants him. Then he holds his cock while Peter slowly seats himself on it. Peter closes his eyes, savoring the sensation of being filled.

"Feels so good," Peter murmurs, hissing when Stiles finally seats himself inside all the way. It's almost _too_ good.

"There you are," Stiles whispers, and Peter opens his eyes to look at him. Stiles's whiskey colored eyes are almost all taken up by pupil. It's good to know Peter's not the only one turned on beyond belief.

Peter moves. He rocks his hips just a little, feels the pull of Stiles's cock against his rim. He tries it another way, and yeah, that's it.

"You're doing so good. That's right. I don't even have to teach you, do I? You're a natural at this. Just follow what your body is telling you," Stiles says, one hand sliding up Peter's chest. At first Peter thinks he's going to stop to pull at a nipple, like he often does, but Stiles's hand keeps moving up until it's around Peter's throat. 

The grip is loose but just the presence of Stiles's hand right _there_ makes Peter's cock jump. Makes him rock faster on Stiles's cock until he's bouncing, fucking himself full of Stiles over and over again.

Peter moans and throws his head back, realizing this, _this_ is what people are talking about when they use the word ecstasy. Or maybe they mean what's building up inside him, burning low in his belly, something he's seeking out with every movement, until he's forgotten what he's doing other than reaching for his orgasm.

Stiles slows him down a little, gets his attention by tightening the hand on his throat. Peter gasps in surprise, jolting even closer to coming.

Stiles speaks. "You're getting close, aren't you? You can't help it, it feels so good. But if you come before me, you're going to keep riding me until I've finished, too."

Peter nods, yes, anything.

"Okay, baby. Keep bouncing on my dick like a good boy, then."

Peter slides his hands from Stiles's chest to his shoulders, holding on tighter as he moves. Stiles's cock is hitting him in just the right place now, and Peter does his best to stay in the same position. He doesn't want to come yet, wants to make sure Stiles is getting his, but it just feels so good.

He moves faster, his own cock bouncing and hard, dripping precome down to his balls. It feels good when Stiles moans and leans in, mouth latching onto one of Peter's nipples, and Peter's cock finds some skin to rub against.

It's too much. Trying to hold out was a pipe dream. Stiles's cock, _Stiles_ , feels too good. The warmth in Peter's middle coalesces into a display of fireworks behind Peter's eyes and he comes, cock spurting between them. Stiles says something but Peter's too gone to understand it.

Then Stiles leans forward even more and wraps his arms around Peter's back, fucking him from beneath, power behind every thrust. Peter can only hold on, arms wrapped around Stiles's neck, as his sensitive hole is fucked hard and used.

Stiles makes a deep sound, almost a snarl, and fucks Peter harder. Peter's feeling good now, likes how his Dom is holding him, fucking him, _using_ him. But he wants Stiles to come. He needs to see to his Dom's pleasure. He clenches his ass around Stiles's cock, and is surprised not just at the way Stiles moans his name, but at how good it feels. He does it again and his cock twitches back to life. 

He's a teenager and a werewolf, but he's never recovered so quickly in his life. He starts to whimper. He looks into Stiles's face and sees his Dom grinning fiercely.

"Please, sir," Peter says. "Please…"

And then Stiles flips him onto his back and starts really pounding into him. Hard and fast. Peter starts to fly. It doesn't matter if he closes his eyes or leaves them open, there are fireworks. His breaths are loud, in time with Stiles's grunts. God, Stiles looks amazing. Feels amazing.

Everything is Stiles, Stiles. All Peter's attention is focused on the man taking his pleasure from Peter's body. Every touch, every thrust. Every movement.

Stiles leans down and bites at Peter's bottom lip. It's a sharp, perfect pain that Peter takes gratefully. 

"Please," Peter whines. 

Stiles wraps his hand around Peter's now-hard cock and the contact is electric. Peter arches, wraps his legs around Stiles's waist, and hangs on for dear life.

Peter's cock is so sensitive, but Stiles's slick hand strokes him anyway, slow at first, then faster. He feels like Stiles is teasing him, edging him closer to his orgasm but not quite giving him enough. He wonders if Stiles will _let_ him come again. Does he deserve it? Has he been good enough?

And Stiles still hasn't come. Peter whimpers at the thought. Clenches around him again to draw out another moan. There it is. Peter wants to pull the orgasm out of his Dom, make it good. 

"Yeah, like that, Keep doing that, baby," Stiles pants. And so Peter does, unable to do anything but obey his Dom. He wants to be good. Has to be. 

But Stiles's hand on his cock is too good, too much. Peter whines and Stiles gently shushes him. Tells him what a good boy he is, how good Stiles will make it for him. "But don't come yet," Stiles says. And tightens his grip.

Peter's going out of his mind with need, now. He can't. He doesn't think he can do this.

"Yes you can, so good, you're being so good," Stiles says.

Peter doesn't know what's happening. Is he going to come? Stiles says no. It nearly hurts, it's so much. But Stiles doesn't relent, just keeps stroking him with one slick hand while pounding right against his prostate now. 

Peter starts to cry. He feels the tears rolling down his face. He feels too good, everything is too much. Stiles shushes him again and kisses his face, his wet cheeks. 

"So good for me," Stiles gasps, and then he's coming deep inside of Peter, thrusting through it. "Come, baby. Come for me."

Peter cries out, sobs when he orgasms, harder than before, like it's pulled out from somewhere deep. He comes so hard he's barely aware of what happens next.

Stiles cleans him up, tender and sweet, whispering his love the whole time. Peter opens his eyes and can only smile up at him, feeling nothing but adoration.

Later, they go to bed, cuddling together under the blankets. Peter thinks, before drifting off, that this is the most content he's ever been. 

It's also possibly the happiest he'll ever be.


	20. Chapter 20

The kids love Halloween. Dressing up, getting candy, who wouldn't? Laura makes a good Rey, looking fierce in her costume. Elpha even manages to get the hair right, though it looks complicated to Peter. Stiles makes such a fuss when he sees Laura as Rey, and takes tons of pictures with his phone.

But of course then he has to do the same for Derek and Cora, who are a fireman and a cat respectively.

(Peter knows Laura is Stiles's favorite, though.)

The adults are busy preparing for the next day, when many of Beacon Hills' residents who mark Samhain will show up for food and bonfire activities. Richard is cooking. Talia and Elpha are prepping wood for the fire. Alex takes the kids trick or treating, and that leaves Stiles and Peter to have some time to themselves.

Stiles asked Peter if he'd like to go out, to a party at the club or somewhere else, but Peter is too conscious of this being their penultimate night. Stiles seemed to understand when Peter asked if they could stay in.

Peter spends most of the night on his knees by Stiles's chair, pet and fed fruit and tiny sandwiches, getting sips of water here and there when Stiles decides he needs them. 

It's good. Peter loves it, and he can tell from Stiles's scent that his Dom is just as satisfied with the arrangement.

There's no sex at night, but Stiles holds him tightly, even in his sleep.

* * *

**Peter's Private Journal**  
Nov. 1

I slipped away while he was sleeping. I woke up with Stiles holding me and it was perfect. I never wanted it to end. And now… today is the last day. Tonight is the last night. Maybe tomorrow morning it will be Stiles slipping away while I'm sleeping, not wanting to wake me as he leaves.

Lots to do today for the festival. Part of me wants to just go back to bed and forget what day it is. But I think I'll go back downstairs and help Richard.

Stiles will be coming to complete the wards in a few hours. I need to hold it together. Wearing his cuff helps, but I probably shouldn't put it back on. It's like a drug. I want to wear it all the time.

* * *

Stiles has never made wards so strong. It helps that he's completing them on an important day for the Hales, a day like a hinge on which other doors open. The wheel turns, and Stiles was sure to keep that in mind when he developed the ritual to bind the wards to the Hale property and to the Hale pack itself.

He could have used a premade ritual, or tailored one to suit. But he does this for the Hales. He does this for Peter, if he's honest, but also for Talia who has given him so much.

Standing in this place with Talia, Laura, and Peter, feeling the magic work its way through them, he almost feels like he could be part of the pack. Almost feels like he already is.

He closes his eyes and holds on to Laura and Peter's hands. Talia is in front of him, completing the circle. The Hales don't have words to say or magic to give, but their very presence, their pack bonds, their blood, binds them together and helps strengthen the wards Stiles is weaving and completing.

Surprisingly, the wards don't take much magic out of him. By the time he's finished, he doesn't feel depleted. He feels… refreshed, actually.

There's a hush of silence after the wards snap into place. He can feel them, and he's sure Talia can as well. He thinks Peter and Laura should be able to, too.

He opens his eyes and Talia is smiling at him. She looks triumphant. Peter and Laura look awed, though they're looking around like they think they might be able to see the wards if they look hard enough.

Stiles smiles to himself. He did a good job. Talia has every right to be pleased and so does he.

"Very good, Stiles," Talia says. "Now, I assume we're done here?"

Stiles grins. "Thanks. Yeah, we're done."

Talia nods. "Then I'd like to speak to you in my office."

He looks at Peter, then back at Talia. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

"No, no," Talia says. "I just have something to ask you. A request."

They walk silently back from the forest to the house. Talia doesn't say another word until they're alone in her soundproof office. 

"What's this about?" Stiles asks.

"I have a proposal for you, Stiles," Talia says. Stiles thinks she's going to be vague about what she wants, but she gets right to it. "You should be our Emissary."

Stiles startles so much Talia looks like she's holding back laughter. He says, "That's… a big commitment."

Talia waves a hand. "Oh, I know. I don't expect you to say yes. I just wanted to put the thought in your head, so that one day maybe you'll consider it seriously."

"Um, what?" Stiles asks.

Talia laughs. "You've been good for my brother. I feel you could be good for the pack, too. But I know you're not likely to take me up on the offer anytime soon. But I do want you to know it's an option."

"I'm sure you can find another Emissary, someone much more experienced than I am, I mean I'm not even thirty yet and-"

"Shh, hush," Talia says. "You're eminently qualified for the position. The work you've done for me so far has been outstanding, especially the wards today, and your power makes up for your lack of experience. Though that's not to say you don't have experience. I've heard some of the challenges you've dealt with over the past five years, and the achievements you've made. It's an impressive list."

Stiles doesn't know what to say. "I'm... grateful for the offer. Flattered. But I'm not ready to settle down yet."

Talia waves a hand. "Oh, I know. And I know you want to let Peter go, get some space between you so he can get a taste of independence. But that doesn't mean you won't come back, or that you won't need a place to land when you do."

Stiles's mind is reeling. He can almost taste the future Talia is showing him. "You can't know what I'll decide."

"No, of course not. I'm just giving you an option, one you may not have thought of."

And it's not even that Stiles hasn't thought of it. He has. He's almost wished for just this, to have a place with the pack, to be near Peter…

"It's very tempting," Stiles murmurs.

"Our previous Emissary left because I wanted more from him," Talia explains. "I wanted him to be more hands-on, to actually be part of our pack. He didn't want that, and I wouldn't change my mind. So he resigned."

"So… if I became your Emissary, you'd want me to be part of the pack, too?" Stiles asks.

Talia nods. "Exactly that, pack bond and all. You would… I understand as a Dom and as a human you'd have some trouble submitting to me as Alpha. That was one of the problems we had with our former Emissary. But-"

"I wouldn't have a problem with it," Stiles says, surprising himself. "That… You're an excellent leader, Talia. I would be honored to be part of your pack, if that came to pass."

Talia smiles, looking pleased. "Well. That's good to know, then." She frowns a little. "But that's not all it's about. An Emissary, whether they are part of the pack or not, needs to be able to point out when the Alpha is wrong, or if he or she is starting to steer in that direction. Becoming part of the pack, being that close, it might muddy the waters. You would submit to my authority, but still have to be able to confront me if I make a bad call. You wouldn't be the only one who could, but your voice would carry the most weight."

Stiles nods slowly. "And your former Emissary, I assume he didn't want to integrate with your pack because of how effective he'd still be at his job."

"He was very rigid in his thinking. But you're not, Stiles. You're a strong, capable, independent young man and I think you'd take to this very well."

"You're gonna make me blush," Stiles says with a grin. "But thanks."

Talia smiles. "Just… think about it."

Stiles leaves the impromptu meeting feeling good. He has a direction, somewhat. A choice. He can come back, maybe, when Peter is ready. And if he is, if Peter still wants him, still loves him after seeing what more he could have, then Stiles would not only have a place with Peter, he'd have a career with a prestigious pack. Not only that, but he'd be part of the pack itself. Not an outsider. Pack.

That, more than anything, is what makes it so attractive.

* * *

People begin arriving for the celebration soon after Stiles leaves Talia's office. Stiles mingles a little at first, eating some of Richard's food and chatting with some locals he's met, but then he finds himself gravitating toward Peter without even realizing it.

At least, not until they're standing hand in hand not far from the blazing bonfire.

"Did you put anything in?" Peter asks him. 

Stiles looks at the fire. "Not yet. I wasn't sure what to write, so I put it off. And now... " He smiles. "I don't have a pen."

Peter rolls his eyes fondly. "You have magic."

"Right," Stiles says. And it's not that he forgets he has magic, that's impossible with it buzzing under his skin most of the time, something he has to work at to keep under control. But he forgets he can use it for small things, too. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Peter press against his chest, where Stiles's rune is. "Do you want me to take it away tonight?" Stiles asks.

Peter is already shaking his head before Stiles even finishes the question. "I want you to renew it."

Stiles turns to face him head on. He reaches up, touches Peter's cheek. "I don't know if I should."

"Please," Peter says, his blue eyes pleading. How can Stiles ever say no to him?

But still. "It's probably not a good idea," Stiles says. Peter opens his mouth, probably to argue, and Stiles sighs. "But I'll do it anyway." He leans in and kisses Peter's cheek. 

Peter smiles. "Later, then?"

Stiles nods. He doesn't know how the night will go. It's their last together. Will it be calm and bittersweet, or will one of them break down and turn desperate to hold on? Stiles knows himself well enough that the latter is entirely possible.

Stiles digs some paper out of his pocket. He put it there this morning, once he realized he didn't know what should be cast into the bonfire. He didn't know what to write on it, but held onto the paper anyway.

Now, he knows. The idea he needs to cast away, Talia's already told him what it should be. Has already given him hope.

He doesn't have to be alone. He can be part of something after all.

He waves his hand over the paper and quickly folds it before Peter can see what's written there. It's important that this stay personal. He steps closer to the fire, close enough that the heat licks at his face. The bonfire takes his slip of paper eagerly, and burns his old way of thinking eagerly.

May first. November first. Arguably the most magical times of the year. He's not sure where he'll be come Beltane, but there are possibilities now.

Peter comes up behind him and Stiles reaches back for his hand without looking. Peter takes it and they stand in the heat of the fire for a few more moments before they walk back to Stiles's cottage.


	21. Chapter 21

When they get to the door of the cottage, Stiles pulls Peter in for a rough, possessive kiss. It lasts long enough that Peter loses track of where they are. Then Stiles pulls back and says, "I want you undressed and in my bed. Now."

Peter knows that voice, and moves quickly to obey. He strips down to his underwear, then crawls on top of Stiles's fresh sheets. 

"Everything," Stiles says, walking into the room, unbuttoning his shirt. Peter hurriedly skims out of his briefs. Stiles nods. "Good."

Peter's not sure what's about to happen. Stiles smells so much like a gathering storm, Peter almost expects to hear thunder in the distance. Peter's heart is already pounding. Maybe that's the thunder.

Stiles walks toward the bed and stops just short of it. He closes his eyes. Peter watches as he takes a deep breath. And then another. 

"Sir?" Peter asks. "Stiles, what's the matter?"

Stiles smiles, a little shaky, but he doesn't open his eyes. "I'm trying not to just jump on you."

Peter's breath catches. "I don't think I'd mind so much."

But Stiles shakes his head. Then he opens his eyes. "I need to dial it back a little."

Peter watches him for a minute, then sits up on his knees and rests his hands on his thighs. "What do you need, sir?"

Stiles comes closer, slowly but surely. He sits on the bed near Peter. And then he leans his head on Peter's shoulder, turning his face in, tucking it against Peter's neck. "I don't know."

Peter knows, though. He knows it instinctively, the way he would for any other pack member. Stiles may not actually be pack but he's something very close, and Peter knows how to be someone to rely on. Who offers comfort when it's needed.

He brings his hand up and touches Stiles's head. Runs his fingers through his thick hair. Stiles shudders and brings his arms up to hold on. Wraps them around Peter's waist. Peter continues petting Stiles's hair until Stiles lets go of a sigh, and then Peter helps him take his shirt off the rest of the way. Pushes it off his shoulders gently, helps Stiles when he seems frustrated by the cuffs. Peter takes over and unbuttons them for Stiles, pulls the shirt off the rest of the way. 

Stiles sighs again, hot breath fanning over Peter's vulnerable skin. Peter shivers but does his best to ignore it as he wraps Stiles in a hug and rubs his back. 

"You're too good for me," Stiles murmurs. 

"I think I'm just the right amount of good for you, sir," Peter tells him.

Stiles picks up his head and smiles. "Yeah?"

Peter nods. "Let me take care of you?"

Stiles falters. His face makes a complicated expression Peter can't read. "I don't know if I can," he says. It sounds like an admission.

Peter leans in and touches his lips to Stiles's. He knows they're both overly emotional right now, but his own desperation is receding because he knows he needs to be the strong one this time. He has to be an anchor for Stiles.

"Let's just try, sir," Peter says. He puts a hand in the middle of Stiles's chest and helps him lay back against the pillows. "Try to relax."

Peter's heart is pounding, the role reversal something new and exciting. Stiles looks up at him with a small frown and Peter leans down to kiss it. Stiles reaches up and slides his hand up Peter's arm to rest on his shoulder.

"Let me take care of you, sir," Peter repeats. This time, Stiles nods.

Peter moves down the bed and removes Stiles's shoes and socks. He does it slowly, carefully. Stiles lies there, lets him do as he pleases. But the storm-scent is dissipating, so Peter takes it his idea is working. It's odd not to hear Stiles talking, though. Talking seems to be his natural state of being, so his silence is disconcerting. Is Peter supposed to fill the silence himself?

"Let's get your pants off, too," Peter says. "Then… maybe a shower?" He can pamper Stiles under the hot water, and it will help them both to unwind.

Stiles nods again and helps Peter slide his pants off. They walk together into the en suite bath. One night Stiles filled the tub with water and a bath bomb and had Peter soak for a long time, until his fingers were pruny and his body was boneless. Then Stiles took him to bed and rimmed him until he begged. 

Now it's Stiles's turn. Not for those specific things, but to relax and be pampered. Peter's strangely confident. It helps when Stiles reacts to him, turns toward him, buries his face against Peter's neck after Peter starts the shower water running. 

"We both smell like smoke from the bonfire," Peter says. "It'll be nice to be clean again."

"I barely noticed," Stiles murmurs. He kisses Peter's shoulder. "This is… good. Thank you, baby."

Peter smiles and pulls Stiles under the water with him once it's hot enough. The water that streams off Stiles's skin tastes sweeter than from the tap, he imagines. He reaches for the shower pouf and soaps it up with Stiles's favorite sandalwood body wash, then slowly drags it across Stiles's skin. Over dips and dives of muscle, over moles and tattoos. Peter wants to worship every inch of skin on Stiles's body.

He looks up into Stiles's face and finds his Dom looking at him, his eyes soft and full of love. 

Peter smiles self-consciously. "Yes?"

"It's okay to be selfish sometimes," Stiles says, and for a moment Peter thinks it's directed at him. But then he just knows, it's Stiles telling himself that. This is something Stiles wants for himself, to be cared for and loved, and he's saying it's okay that he wants it. 

So Peter nods and leans in, kisses his neck. "Yes," he says, and with a jolt of possessiveness, nips at the skin. 

Stiles sucks in a breath but doesn't stop him. 

Peter thinks about how Stiles will leave marks on Peter for later, like the hickies on his neck or the rune marking on his chest, but Stiles is going to leave soon without a single mark on his body that means _Peter_. There's a wolf inside Peter that doesn't like that idea very much.

He growls softly and sucks a bruise into Stiles's collarbone. Stiles moans and hauls him closer. The scent of arousal fills the steam-filled room and when Peter is finished, he's absolutely sure the impulsive act was welcome.

"You keep surprising me," Stiles murmurs, and then kisses him. They're close now, soap and water making their skin slippery. Stiles puts a little soap in his hands and runs them down Peter's back. It feels incredible, especially when Stiles cups Peter's ass and squeezes. He kisses him again and Peter's starting to float, but he can't, not when Stiles needs him. He needs to stay with it.

Peter opens his eyes (when did he close them? he's not sure) and looks into Stiles's brown eyes. He seems much more relaxed now, more himself. Peter can't smell the storm anymore.

* * *

Stiles looks at Peter and wonders just how he knew how to bring him back around when Stiles himself wasn't sure. It cements Peter in his mind as a perfect complement. It makes him even less inclined to leave.

But Stiles isn't going to debate with himself any more. He knows what the best course of action is, and what it might look like if he did stay, and it's not pretty. Peter has some growing up to do, some growing away from Stiles, and though it's painful for both of them, it is for the best.

"Can I wash your hair?" Peter asks.

Stiles smiles and reaches around him, teasing him by standing so close, and grabs his shampoo. He hands it over and then tilts his head back against the spray of water.

When Peter washes his hair, his hands are gentle, loving. He massages Stiles's scalp with firm, measured circles. It feels incredible. Peter tips Stiles's head back and runs his fingers through Stiles's hair as it rinses clean. 

They get out of the shower and dry off, not bothering with clothes as they fall into the bed together. Stiles reaches out and touches Peter's face, thumbing along his cheekbone. 

"You're beautiful," Stiles tells him. "I know I've said that before, but sometimes I just... I look at you can't believe I have you." Then he bites his lip as he remembers that soon he can't just look over at Peter. Soon, he won't be able to say he has him.

But Peter seems to understand. He puts his hand over Stiles's, entwines their fingers. "You'll always have me," he says. 

Stiles shakes his head because he knows that's not right. It may not be the truth.

Peter sighs and leans in, presses their foreheads together. "No matter what, you'll always be my first everything. My first Dom. My first love. My first... Stiles." He smiles. "A part of me will always be yours, even if..."

He trails off but Stiles can fill in the blanks. Even if they don't come together again. Even if there's no real future between them. Even if, even if.

Stiles kisses him, hard and desperate. He doesn't want to think about the If. He wants his boy. He wants to keep him. 

Peter seems to pick up on his desperation. He rears up into the kiss, and together they fight over who will take over. Stiles wrestles him, grinning, and Peter puts some strength into it. He manages to roll, flip, so that he's straddling Stiles's waist. Stiles looks up at him in challenge. 

"What are you going to do with me?" Stiles asks, smiling.

Peter's eyes are so, so blue. "I'm going to love you." And then he bends down and kisses Stiles again. He drags his hands from where they're clasping Stiles's and drags them up Stiles's arms to his shoulders, to cup his face. His thumbs stroke over Stiles's cheeks. 

Stiles runs his hands down Peter's back, up and down the smooth skin. Peter moans into the kiss, soft and sweet, when Stiles cups his ass. The sound breaks something open inside, and Stiles can't hold back.

"I love you," Stiles chokes out, even though it's obvious. He knows Peter knows this now, it's no secret. But he still feels the need to express it, to say the words, not even caring if they matter or not at this point. He says it again, and again, until there is an echo, until Peter is chanting it with him, clinging to him and speaking the words in the slight space between them, mumbling it into each other's mouths.

"Please," Peter says, and there are tears in his eyes as well, and Stiles doesn't want that, he wants him to fly. He wants to make him feel incredible, so he grabs on and rolls them over.

Stiles covers Peter's body with his own, weighs him down the way they both crave. "Tell me what you need, baby," Stiles whispers against his skin, at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He scrapes his teeth over the boy's skin, causing him to hiss and buck under him. 

"More," Peter says. "Everything."

It's senseless and right, just right. Stiles knows what Peter wants, what he needs. The hands holding Peter down get rougher, more possessive, and Peter starts to tremble.

"Yes," Peter says. "Please, sir."

There hasn't been any prep. Stiles wants to sink into Peter's body anyway, knows Peter would let him, would probably welcome it. It's tempting. But he can't do that to his boy, so he magics enough slick between them for them rut without chafing. Peter gasps and shudders, reacting to his magic as sweetly as always.

It's slick between them now and Stiles rolls his hips, rubbing his cock just so against Peter's, careful to do it just right but it feels so incredibly good that it's difficult to remember not to just thrust uncontrollably. Peter groans and clings tighter, wrapping his arms around Stiles's neck, He hitches one leg up high on Stiles's hip, inviting more of whatever Stiles can give him.

Stiles gets his hand in between them, one slick finger probing, teasing. "This what you need, baby?" he asks, and Peter nods erratically. He looks feverish now in his need so Stiles presses in.

"Yes," Peter gasps.

"You took care of me, so I'll take care of you," Stiles whispers, dragging his lips up to gently kiss away the wetness on Peter's cheeks. Two fingers breach Peter's body and he closes his eyes tightly, moaning.

* * *

"You're incredible," Stiles tells him, and Peter soaks up the praise. He loves the sound of Stiles's voice, loves the things he says. "Look at you."

Peter can't do that, exactly, but he can figure out what Stiles means. He's wanton at the moment, begging with his body to be filled up and fucked. That's that Stiles is seeing. That's what makes Peter's face heat.

But at the same time, Peter loves it. He can be as eager as he is and Stiles looks at him with so much affection, so much love and lust. The scent of Stiles's desire is thick in the room, entwining with Peter's own. For someone with enhanced senses, it's like a siren call. 

He wishes Stiles could smell how their scents wrap around each other.

Stiles brushes over Peter's prostate and makes him cry out, moaning for more.

"That's my pretty little slut," Stiles says. "That's what you need, isn't it? Are my fingers enough?"

Peter shakes his head back and forth on the pillow. "Need more. Please, sir. Can I have your cock?" He knows he can take it now. He's been fucked enough lately that his body will accept Stiles easily. "Please."

"You don't need to be opened up some more?" Stiles asks. He's such a tease, he's got to know Peter needs him immediately.

"A little more slick?" Peter asks. He doesn't really need it that badly, but he loves the scent of Stiles's magic. 

Stiles gives him a look like he knows exactly what Peter's doing, but he whispers a spell anyway and his fingers push more magic lube inside. Peter moans at the scent, at the feel. 

"Please, sir," Peter whispers. 

"Please what?" Stiles asks. "I want you to use your words, baby. Tell me what it is you want from me. Tell me why you need it."

Peter whimpers. "Need your cock inside me," he gasps. "Need you to fill me up."

"Why?" Stiles asks. He pulls his fingers out and teases Peter's rim with the head of his cock.

Peter bites down hard on his lip. He's never said it out loud, no matter how much he's wanted to. Stiles has never made him before. "Because I'm a slut, sir. Your slut."

"You're right," Stiles says. "Good boy. I'm gonna fill up your slutty hole just like you need." And then he shoves inside and Peter can only hold on, arms wrapped tightly around Stiles's neck.

Stiles groans when he's pushed all the way inside, but Peter can't concentrate on that. Can only think about how empty he was before and how perfectly full he is now. 

"God, you feel so good," Stiles whispers, kissing his face. "So tight and perfect for me. All for me."

"Nngh," Peter manages to say. He doesn't know how Stiles can still speak in complete sentences.

Stiles reaches between them and at first Peter's not sure what he's doing, but then he feels it. A finger teasing at his rim where he's stretched wide around Stiles's cock. He's not doing more than feeling around, but it's still enough to make Peter whimper.

"You like it when I play with your hole, don't you?" Stiles asks him.

"Yeah," Peter says when he gets his mouth to work. "Yes, sir."

"You're so good for me," Stiles says. His finger is slick where it's teasing, but he's not doing much of anything else except fucking Peter excruciatingly slow.

"Please," Peter whimpers.

"Use your words, sweetheart," Stiles reminds him.

"Fuck me, sir. Please."

Stiles is barely moving inside him, and while Peter feels full, it's not quite enough. He needs more. Needs Stiles to move.

"You ask so pretty for what you need," Stiles tells him. 

"Need you to be fucking me," Peter asks, maybe a little too pertly.

Stiles smiles and smacks his flank. "You know that's not the right way to ask."

But Peter moans, loving the sound of the smack, loving the hint of warmth from it. He wants more. "Please, more of that. Will you, sir? Can I have...?"

Stiles laughs and smacks him again, then kneads at Peter's flesh. "Do you want me to fuck you or spank you, baby boy?"

Peter sucks in a breath. "Both? Please?"

"Not in a very good position for it," Stiles muses.

"Then let me move," Peter pleads.

Stiles appears to think for a moment, then he slowly pulls out. Peter doesn't like it, but he knows whatever's coming will be much better.

"Get on your hands and knees," Stiles says, giving Peter room to move into position, but then he stops him for a moment. "Wait."

Stiles holds out something to show him and at first Peter doesn't understand. His eyes fall on the object and then he gets it. A shiver runs through him and he nods eagerly.

The leather cuff is plain, the same one Peter wore when they went out to the club. But Stiles takes his left hand, meeting his eyes, obviously waiting for permission.

"Please," Peter whispers. He's afraid what his voice will sound like it he tries to speak aloud right now.

Stiles puts the cuff on his wrist, barely looking at it to do so. He mostly just keeps eye contact, obviously feeling the gravity of the moment. "Thank you, Peter."

Stiles doesn't call him by name often. He's usually a pet name, like baby or sweetheart. But Stiles says his name like it's an endearment, too. It makes Peter shiver again with pleasure.

And now that the cuff is on his wrist, Peter feels more relaxed. Claimed. Owned, even if it's for a short time.

Stiles takes his hand and kisses his palm in one of the more romantic gestures he's ever given. Peter isn't sure what to do with that other than accept it. He nods, and Stiles nudges him.

Peter rolls over onto his hands and knees. He looks down at the cuff on his wrist, notices everything about it. The way the dark leather looks against his skin. The weight of it. The snug fit. The way it makes him feel giddy and floaty and grounded all at once.

And then Stiles runs his hands over Peter's ass like he's worshipping his skin. He alternates between brushing his fingertips over skin and kneading the flesh there. It's maddening. He's empty, needy, craving more and more. He feels greedy for it. "Please, sir," he begs.

Stiles gives him a smack. Peter can't see the angle, but it feels like Stiles spanked downward. If he can keep that up _and_ fuck Peter, it will be perfect.

Behind him, Stiles lines up and then pushes in. They both groan in satisfaction. Peter's already feeling floaty, filled up and wearing his cuff, already close to subspace. He just needs a little bit more help and he'll be there.

And Stiles seems to know it. He spanks him again, and starts fucking him. He builds a rhythm Peter can't anticipate, because just when Peter thinks he knows when and where the next smack is coming, when he thinks he knows how hard or deep Stiles will thrust, Stiles changes things up, keeps him guessing.

"Stop thinking," Stiles tells him. "Trust me."

That's when Peter finally surrenders. He gives his body over to Stiles, trusts he'll take him where he needs to go. 

"Good boy, you're so good for me," Stiles says, and angles his thrusts differently.

Peter gasps when his prostate is hit. And again. And still again. Stiles rains down smacks on his ass and it's a wonderful warmth now, coupled with thrusts of absolute pleasure. It's a storm of sensation, and the scent of Stiles's desire builds, and Peter is surrounded by everything good, all his senses tuned entirely to Stiles and what Stiles is doing to his body.

He's flying. He can't think beyond _Yes, sir, yes_ and maybe he says it and maybe he doesn't. Stiles keeps up a litany of praise to him, and Peter can only barely parse the words, though the tone of voice, the _emotions_ are there to give him wings.

"Feel so good, take it so well, my perfect boy," Stiles is saying. "Beautiful slutty body taking everything I give you. Love you so much. You're mine, you'll always be mine…"

And Peter does hear him, can understand just enough to clench down on Stiles's cock and make him gasp, give him back as much pleasure as he can.

Stiles stops spanking him then, seemingly too caught up in fucking Peter to bother with anything else. It doesn't matter. Peter's exactly where he needs to be, safe and ecstatic, floating somewhere above any concern he ever had.

Stiles puts a hand on Peter's cock, stroking with a slick fist. "You're gonna come for me, baby."

Everything that has been building bursts at once like a broken dam, flooding Peter's senses, pushing him over the edge. He comes hard enough that he's not aware for several long minutes after. He just floats. 

Stiles must come too but Peter's not with it enough to realize. He hovers in subspace, a nebula, blown apart into a million shimmering pieces of glittering dust, just content to hang among the stars.

* * *

Stiles rearranges Peter's limbs and cleans him up, whispering his love. He's proud of Peter's current state, of how he's the one who took him there. Peter needed something and Stiles provided it, and from the blissed out look on Peter's face, Stiles did it well.

"I'm so proud of you, too," Stiles murmurs, knowing Peter can't really understand him right now. He's far beyond that at the moment, and Stiles can say anything, really. "And I'm so grateful to you. You took care of me, anchored me, and I didn't even know what I needed but you gave it to me. You always give me what I need, and I'm…" Stiles shakes his head. He's going to miss Peter so much. 

He planned on maybe leaving in the morning before Peter woke, and he might still do that. Clean break, no extra heartache. But he's not so sure. Maybe he'll make Peter breakfast, walk him back to the house when they're through. 

Right now he'd do anything for Peter. Stiles knows he's running high on sex and power, knows it's the endorphins thinking for him, but he knows if Peter woke up right now and begged him to stay, he'd do it.

It's a good thing Peter's too out of it to do so, then.

"I love you so much," Stiles tells his boy, eyes resting on the cuff on Peter's wrist. Maybe one day he'll put a permanent one there. 

Stiles lies down beside Peter on the bed and pulls him into his arms. He's careful not to fall asleep, because once Peter comes out of subspace he'll need some more care. But for now, it's good to hold him close. Stiles buries his nose in the hair at the nape of Peter's neck and breathes deeply.

He strokes down Peter's arm and tangles their fingers together, holding on like he'll never have to let go.

* * *

Before the sun rises, before the rest of the world is awake, Stiles slips out of bed and dresses. Then he kisses Peter tenderly.

Peter seems to come awake all at once. "Is it time?"

Stiles sighs and turns on the bedside lamp, making Peter squint and sit up. Stiles shakes his head. "Not quite."

Peter reaches out to him. He's still wearing the cuff. Stiles eyes it, not knowing what to do. Peter asks, "Should I take it off?"

Stiles shakes his head and takes his hand. "Not yet." He squeezes Peter's fingers and sighs again.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" Peter asks him.

Again, Stiles shakes his head. 

"It doesn't feel real," Peter murmurs. "Like you can't possibly be leaving."

"I know," Stiles admits. He feels the same way, even though his Jeep is packed up and his dad is expecting him in six hours.

"Can I do something?" Peter asks. He scoots closer. "I could make some sandwiches for you to eat on the road. Or… something."

Stiles smiles. "Richard already packed up a basket for me."

Peter huffs. "Of course he did."

They're quiet for a few minutes. Stiles silently runs his thumb over the back of Peter's hand. 

"I should go," Stiles murmurs finally.

"Can I…" Peter starts to say, then shakes his head.

"What, baby?"

Peter licks his lips. He looks nervous. "I'd like to keep the cuff. Not… not wear it. Just keep it."

Stiles nods. "Okay."

"Okay," Peter echoes. He squeezes Stiles's hand, then pulls away so he can slide off the bed to the floor. He kneels there and looks up at Stiles for a moment, then rests his head on Stiles's lap.

Stiles carefully runs his hand through Peter's hair. He's not sure what Peter needs right now, doesn't know what he can even do for him. 

He's about to ask if Peter's all right when Peter picks his head up to look into Stiles's eyes. 

"I love you, Stiles," Peter says. His voice is perfectly even, his gaze steady.

Stiles nods and smiles, though it feels like a rather sad one. "I love you too, baby."

"I don't want you to walk out and leave me here alone," Peter says. He takes Stiles's hands in his own and kisses them. The he stands. "So I'm going to get dressed and leave now. I'll head back to the house. Okay?"

Stiles nods silently. He sits on the edge of the bed as Peter puts his clothes on. He watches, silent, not knowing what else to do. He doesn't know how to get rid of the ache that's started up in his chest.

Peter pauses at the door to the bedroom. "Just make sure you come back."

"I will," Stiles says.

Peter nods. He gives Stiles one last long look, like he's memorizing everything about him, and then he walks away. Stiles hears the front door open and close a few moments later.


	22. Chapter 22

All around him, life keeps going on. It doesn't seem right that everyone at school is fine, that no one acts any different. Peter feels like his whole world was dumped upside down when Stiles left.

"You look like absolute shit," Marin says frankly as she sits beside him. "What's for lunch?"

Peter blinks at her, then slides his brown bag her way. He's sure whatever Richard made him is delicious, but food tastes like dust lately.

Marin frowns. "You're not eating again?" She opens up the bag and takes out a sandwich. "What's on this?"

Peter shrugs. 

Marin sighs. "Talk, would you?" She unwraps the sandwich and opens it. "Roast beef and provolone. You have something against meat all of a sudden?"

"I'm not hungry," Peter says.

"It's been three weeks," Marin says. "You can't keep going on like this. It's not healthy. You don't eat, you look like you're not sleeping, either. I get that you're depressed, but-"

"What do you expect me to do? Get over it?" Peter sneers.

Marin raises her eyebrows but looks unimpressed. "Have you talked to him lately?"

"Yeah," Peter says. Thankfully Stiles hasn't abandoned him entirely. Two nights ago they Skyped, but it's been three weeks without a touch and it's not exactly the same. It helped when Stiles told him to put on the cuff. It helped when Stiles gave him strict instructions on getting undressed and kneeling for him. Peter jerked off for Stiles, following his commands, his voice, and while it did help a little, taking the edge off, Peter's still dealing with the fact that he hasn't hit subspace in three weeks. 

"Well?" Marin asks. 

"It's not enough," Peter says. He's told Marin before about how werewolf subs are slightly different from human subs. That was an embarrassing conversation, but at least she knows now what he's dealing with.

"You're my best friend," Marin says, surprising him. He looks up and she nods grimly. "You heard that right. B-F-F. And I'm not going to let my best friend stay in this kind of funk, okay?"

It's more than just a _funk_ , and if he was up to it, he'd probably argue that he's actually pretty depressed. But he doesn't want her to bring out the listening face and act like the therapist she wants to be. So he won't say he's gutted by Stiles's leaving. He won't tell her he misses Stiles like he would a packmate, or worse.

Instead, he says, "Got any suggestions?"

"I think you need a new Dom," Marin says.

Peter winces. He knows she's right, but that doesn't mean he likes the prospect.

Marin sighs, sounding suitably sympathetic. It keeps Peter from snapping at her. She says, "I know it can't be easy to go out and find someone. But it wouldn't have to be a relationship. Hell, it wouldn't even have to be sexual."

"I wouldn't even know where to look."

"Not school, that's for sure," Marin says, pursing her lips and looking as if the very thought disgusted her. "You need someone who'll take your needs seriously."

Peter knows this. And he knows he should go back to the club and talk to Ennis, maybe see if he knows anyone who'd be willing to take on a desperate, pining sub. "Okay. We'll see."

"Does that mean you will or are you just saying that to get me off your back?" Marin asks shrewdly.

Peter huffs a laugh. "I will." The decision has him feeling better already.

"Good. Now, will you eat something?"

Peter sighs. Marin hands him back the sandwich. He does feel a little hungry, come to think of it.

* * *

The club is just like Peter remembers, though it's a weekday afternoon and much quieter, less crowded. In fact, there's no crowd at all. This time he's super conscious of his bare wrist. He puts his hand around it and shakes his head.

He heads straight to Ennis once he's in. He's wiping a glass at the bar. Peter sits on one of the stools and waits for his attention.

Ennis sees him and raises his eyebrows. "Oh, honey, you look-"

"I know," Peter half-snarls, then he puts his head in his hands at the bar. He's tired of hearing how tired he looks. He feels bad for nearly jumping down Ennis's throat for a simple statement. "I need help."

Ennis leans over the bar. "How long has it been?" he asks carefully.

"He's only been gone three weeks," Peter answers. "It shouldn't be this bad. But it is. I feel like I've got this… this itch under my skin that won't go away. Like I could just claw myself up."

"Yeah," Ennis says. "Sometimes... this is how it happens."

"I don't know anyone else who I'd feel comfortable with. And I don't want sex, I just... I need to go down."

"Do you think you could trust me?" Ennis asks.

Peter blinks. "You're a sub, though."

"I mean, I could be there while you're with a Dom. Making sure everything goes okay, or maybe just as reassurance."

"Do you know someone who'd help me?" Peter asks.

"My Dom, Deucalion. I think he'd like you," Ennis says. "And more importantly, I think he could get you to subspace and you can stop feeling like you're swimming through glass all the time."

Peter sighs in relief. It's good to talk to someone who knows what he's going through. "Yeah, I'll... I'll meet him?"

Ennis nods. "Follow me," he says, and leads Peter further into the club, down a long hall, to a closed door with an 'Office' sign. Ennis taps on the door and they're invited in.

* * *

Stiles calls Peter, wanting to check up on him, but it goes straight to voicemail. He leaves a message.

Peter calls much later. He sounds odd. Like something's wrong. Stiles doesn't know if it's a new thing or the same thing. He asks.

"I scened with someone today," Peter says hesitantly. 

Stiles blows out a breath quietly and tells himself this is what he wanted. "How did it go?"

"Good?" Peter says. "I mean. I think it was good."

"Did they treat you right?" Stiles asks, because that's the most important thing.

"Yeah, he… he did. And his sub was there the whole time so I wouldn't feel uncomfortable. Ennis. Remember him? It was his Dom."

"Deucalion?" Stiles asks. Deuc is a little old for Peter.

"You know him?" Peter asks.

"Kali introduced us."

"Oh."

There's silence on the line for a moment. Stiles can hear Peter's breaths so he knows he's still there. He wonders if Peter can hear his heartbeat.

"Do you feel better, baby?" Stiles finally asks.

"I don't feel like clawing my skin off anymore, so there's that," Peter says dryly.

Stiles wasn't aware it was so bad. He should have figured it out, though. Now he feels like an idiot for not thinking about how bad it could get for Peter. "I didn't realize…"

He can practically hear Peter's shrug. "It's not your responsibility."

Stiles still wishes it was.

* * *

"Talk me out of going back there," Stiles says to Scott not long after.

"How about I just remind you why you left in the first place?" Scott says reasonably.

They're hanging out like they haven't done in some time. Stiles sighs. "Yeah, that. Do that."

Scott nods. He takes a deep breath, then starts. "He's eighteen. He hasn't had a chance to grow up. He might be an adult, but you're his first real relationship, his first Dom, and if you lock him into something permanent now there's no telling what kind of shit that'll mess up later on down the road. You love him, so you're not gonna do that to him. Which, honestly? Is really mature and cool of you, dude. I'm proud."

"I don't like being a selfless person, Scott. It sucks," Stiles whines.

Scott laughs and pats him on the back. "It's the right thing to do."

"Yeah, I know. I just... I miss him. And he wasn't doing that great and I didn't even know." Stiles frowns. "It could have gotten really bad and I wouldn't have been there for him."

"He needs to learn to take care of himself. Of his own needs. I know what he's going through," Scott says. "And if you want me to tell you about it again-"

"I nearly forgot he's got it worse than other subs," Stiles says. "How could I do that? What kind of Dom does that make me?"

"You trusted him to go to someone if it got bad," Scott points out. "And he did, right?"

Stiles frowns even more. "Yeah. He went to someone. And I can't stand it."

"I've never known you to be jealous, man."

"Surprise," Stiles says dryly. "I am now."

"Well, my advice? Get over it. He needs someone, and right now that's not you. So."

"You have a point," Stiles says with a sigh. "And I know that. I just… I want to be there with him. I want… him."

"Maybe you should spend this time apart working on you instead of waiting for him to work on himself. You know?"

"Like how?" Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs. "Work on being a better Dom."

For a minute Stiles is offended but then he realizes it's something he can definitely do, and it wouldn't just be for himself. He'd be doing it for Peter. Because Peter deserves the best Dom Stiles can possibly be.


	23. Chapter 23

All of November and all of December. That's how long it's been since Peter's seen Stiles. Well, he's seen him on Skype and he's talked to him on the phone, texted him nearly every day. But he hasn't been with him or felt his touch. He's had to make do with Deuc, who is a good guy but not what Peter needs. Not _who_ he needs.

So when Stiles calls and tells Peter he's coming for New Year's, it's like a dream come true.

"How long will you stay?" Peter asks. He can hear his own heartbeat, a fast pounding rhythm that quickened when he first heard Stiles's voice and picked up even more when he heard the news.

"Just a day," Stiles says. "And I need to do some business in town. But for most of the day, I'll be all yours."

Peter grins, an expanding feeling of love in his chest. "No, sir. I'll be all _yours_."

* * *

Stiles bought Peter a present, but he's not so sure he should give it to him. Actually, he's fairly sure he shouldn't. It's a cuff. A real one. And as much as Stiles wants to put it on Peter's wrist, as much as he wants to just _stay_...

He knows he can't, not yet. Two months is not nearly enough time apart. So he doesn't bring the cuff when he visits. It stays on top of his dresser in his room at his dad's house.

* * *

Stiles is shocked when he sees Peter, when he comes running out to his car when Stiles pulls up into the Hale driveway. He doesn't look like the same boy. He has dark circles under his eyes and he's much skinnier than he should be. He smiles, but his eyes aren't even as bright as Stiles remembers.

Stiles wraps his arms around Peter and holds on tight. Then he says, "I thought you were doing better since you started going to Deuc."

He feels Peter startle in his arms. Peter pulls back a little to look at him. "I am doing better. But he's not you."

It makes Stiles feel guilty as fuck. This isn't right. Peter's supposed to grow and flourish without Stiles, not do this. He reminds Stiles of a wilted flower with its stem cut, put into a vase without water.

Stiles puts this out of his mind for the moment and gives Peter a gentle kiss. Peter immediately tries for more, to deepen the kiss and make it last longer, but Stiles is firm. He pushes Peter back and gives him a stern look. Peter looks disappointed for a moment, then smiles. 

"Can I do something for you, sir?" he asks.

"Yeah," Stiles says, and cups Peter's face. "I want you to take care of yourself. I know I'm not here to make sure you do, but I'd appreciate it if you tried a little harder."

Peter blinks and looks away but Stiles isn't having it. 

"Look at me, baby," he says. "I love you. I can't stand seeing you like this."

A breath catches in Peter's throat. "I just… I miss you so much." His big blue eyes get shiny and wet. Stiles pulls him back into his arms. 

"I know. I know, I miss you, too," Stiles says. "But you have to go on with your life even when I'm not here." He sighs and breathes in the scent of Peter's skin, his hair. He hears Peter doing the same to him.

"I want you to be my life," Peter whispers. "I don't want to move on."

And that, Stiles knows in an instant, is the problem. He knows he has to address it. But not right now, not so soon. Not with his boy in his arms with tears in his eyes, looking the way he does, so lost and heartbroken. Stiles knows what's coming, so he puts up a wall of privacy around them, so no one can see or hear them. He does it silently, and he doesn't think Peter even notices.

"Okay. Okay," Stiles says. "I'm here now. Shh."

This of course makes Peter cry harder, but Stiles figures it's needed. Catharsis.

He holds on while Peter gets out everything he needs. He cries so quietly, but he trembles and his breathing is ragged. Stiles feels his own eyes moisten in sympathy. God, he's missed him too.

"I know, baby," Stiles murmurs.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Peter says, then more angrily, "Fuck!" He pulls away but doesn't look at Stiles. He's obviously embarrassed by the crying.

"Hey, no. It's okay. I get it, you know?" Stiles says.

Peter looks at him, his eyes red-rimmed now. He sniffs and wipes his face with his sleeve. "You're only here for one day and I'm ruining it."

"Nothing's ruined," Stiles reassures him.

"You left because I'm immature and you come back and I just... prove it some more," Peter says bitterly.

"That's not why I left," Stiles says firmly. "Not... at least not the way you're saying it. You think grown men don't cry?"

Peter doesn't say anything, but he relaxes a little.

"C'mon, let's go inside," Stiles says, and Peter looks around like he forgot where he was. Then he looks even more embarrassed.

"I can't," Peter whispers. "They probably heard all that."

Stiles shakes his head. "They didn't, I made sure it was private."

Peter gives him a grateful look.

They go in together, and Richard feeds Stiles like maybe Stiles hasn't eaten since he's been gone, and Talia hugs him and even the kids, who haven't really gotten to know Stiles that well still seem excited to see him. 

It's almost like coming home.

* * *

They ring in the new year together. Not at a party, or with the pack, but alone in floating candlelight, holding on to each other like they'll never let go.

"I need you to promise me something," Stiles says, hovering over his boy and looking down into his eyes. 

Peter nods and wraps his arms around Stiles's neck. Hitches his leg up further on Stiles's waist. "Anything, sir."

"You have to stop waiting for me to get back before you live your life. I'm not your life, baby," Stiles says. "You've got to move on with things."

Peter looks to the side. "I don't know if I can do that."

"You don't know, you _won't_ know, until you try. That's the problem, sweetheart. You haven't even tried." Stiles wants to plead with him, shake him, _force_ him to understand.

Peter's silence is worrying. Stiles can't tell if it's mulish or devastated, and he's usually good at reading people, especially Peter.

So Stiles goes on. "You aren't eating right. You look like you're not sleeping. You're doing the bare minimum with Deuc just to keep yourself under control but I want better for you than that. I want you to be thriving, baby. Don't you understand that?"

Peter's hold on Stiles tightens and Stiles rolls to the side, bringing Peter with him. 

"I disappointed you," Peter whispers.

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, baby. I'm disappointed. I want to see you grow and be happy, not… this."

"I'm sorry," Peter says. "I promise I'll… do better. I just."

Stiles smiles and kisses Peter's forehead. "Not often I hear you unable to finish your thoughts."

Peter sighs. "This is difficult."

"I know it is. Look, I'm asking you to do this not for my own benefit, but for yours. I don't want to stunt your emotional well-being because you're waiting around for me to come back."

Peter's eyes glow softly. "But you are coming back?"

"Maybe it'd be easier for you if I said no," Stiles says softly. "Maybe you could move on with your life if you didn't think I'd be back for you. But I'm not selfless enough to make that sacrifice. It's hard enough to leave in the first place."

"But… you want me to act like you won't be back, is that it?"

"I want you to stop pinning your happiness on me," Stiles says seriously. "I can't be that, even if I stuck around. I need you to be happy on your own. For yourself."

"You sound like Marin," Peter grumbles. "Psychobabble."

"Marin's smart," Stiles says. "Maybe you should try listening to her."

"I hear it every day at school. And when she comes over. And when she calls."

"You know what I mean. _Listen_."

Peter wriggles closer. "Can we stop talking about this right now? We don't have much longer and I haven't had sex in months."

"That's something you can do without me, you know," Stiles reminds him. "I don't expect you to be celibate while I'm gone."

Peter makes a soft sound, almost wounded. "It just hasn't felt right. But I'll keep it in mind."

"Good," Stiles says. "I'm glad. You… I'm proud of you, and I know you're going to be good while I'm gone. You're going to take care of yourself, and listen to Marin, and find a new Dom to play with…" He kisses Peter's temple, then his nose, then his lips, lingering there.

"I will," Peter says, and this time he sounds less hesitant and more like he's actually listening and planning to do what Stiles suggests.

"So good," Stiles murmurs, licking Peter's plush bottom lip. "And you're gonna do it all for you, not for me."

"I probably need to think of doing it for you at first," Peter says.

Stiles smiles. "Thank you for being honest. And that's okay, sweetheart. You'll work it out."

Peter huffs. "Sir, _fuck_ me. Please?"

And really, who is Stiles to say no to that?

* * *

**Peter's Private Journal**  
January 2

_Stiles is right. He can't be my life._

 

Peter puts the pen down and leaves it there.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *points to the brief Petopher tag*

Two weeks later and Peter thinks he's got it in hand. Well, not completely. But he's eating, sleeping better, and listening to Alex and Marin when they have something to say. Ennis, too, is becoming a good friend. A confidante. Thankfully he doesn't seem to mind sharing his Dom for certain purposes, and Peter's gotten more relaxed around Deucalion. Able to reach subspace a lot easier. 

He misses Stiles, but he's determined to get on with his life. There's some bitterness there, a little spite. He loves Stiles but goddamn if the man isn't difficult. Peter almost wants to find someone else just to see what Stiles will actually say when it's a real thing.

"Looking good, kid," Ennis tells him. 

Peter raises his eyebrows.

Ennis laughs. "You look better than you have been. It's nice that you've been listening to me. Getting rest, you know. I was starting to wonder about those dark circles under your eyes and I know I'm not the only one."

"Who…?"

Ennis tilts his chin, pointing with it to somewhere over Peter's shoulder. Peter doesn't want to be obvious but he's curious. 

"Just tell me. I'm not going to turn around and stare," Peter says.

"A Dom's been watching you. Not just tonight, either," Ennis says. "But I didn't think you were ready to hear it. He seems content to just watch you, so I figured no harm."

Now Peter does have to look. 

The Dom is older, with a beard and light blue eyes. That's Peter's first impression. Then the man smiles and god, he's attractive. Peter finds himself walking over to him without even thinking about it. He stops, smiles. 

"Can I sit down?"

"Please," the Dom says, waving to the chair beside him. "I'm Chris."

"Peter." He's not sure how to do this, but when he looks over at Ennis, he sees the man is watching over him, but giving him an encouraging thumbs-up.

Chris gives him an amused, almost indulgent look. "Are you single, Peter?" he asks, voice caressing the name. His voice is deep and Peter likes it.

Peter ducks his head, playing shy. "I am."

Chris leans in a little, tilting his head to catch Peter's eye. "Would you like to play with me?"

This time, Peter doesn't have to pretend to be nervous. He is. This is a big deal. He licks his bottom lip and nods. He would, actually. "Yes, sir."

"How old are you?" Chris asks.

"I'm legal," Peter says, probably too fast. He shakes his head. "Eighteen." He's worried he's messed this up now. 

Chris winces. "Awfully young, though." He says it quietly but Peter hears him.

"I know what I'm doing," Peter says firmly. Then, putting a little flirtation in his voice, "I know what I want."

"What's that, sweetheart?" Chris asks. "What do you want?"

Peter's breath hitches. What he wants… what he wants is to be wanted. Stiles left him and while he understands why, there's a part of him that feels abandoned, unwanted. There's a needy part of him begging someone to pay attention, to give him what he needs.

Chris must see some of that in his face. His eyes soften. 

"Do you want to be touched, Peter? Kissed?" Chris asks. "Would you like to sit closer?"

Peter swallows the lump in his throat and nods. He scoots closer and lets himself just lean, and Chris puts an arm around him. It feels nice.

"I don't mind if this is all you want," Chris says.

Peter closes his eyes and leans in a little more. Rests his head against Chris's shoulder. The man is strong — he has the firm muscle beneath his clothes that attest to that. He's not a soft man, though that might have been nice, too. But this is better. This feels like safety.

He wonders if Chris can tell he's basically touch starved. Deuc doesn't give much in the way of comfort or affection. He's a good Dom, but he saves his sweetness for Ennis. Chris, on the other hand, seems like he's happy to run his hand through Peter's hair. To let his thumb caress behind Peter's ear.

" _Is_ this all you want?" Chris asks.

"No, sir," Peter says, his eyes going heavy lidded and his body relaxing into every touch.

"Can you tell me what else you want? Right now, what can I do for you?" Chris asks.

Peter frowns. It's hard to think with the way Chris keeps petting him, lulling him into a place close to subspace. This soon. Just from this. Either they are extremely compatible or Peter is worse off than he thought he was.

Peter ducks his head. He knows what he wants now. He feels his face heat but he thinks Chris might like to see that, so he's sure to look up when he says, "Will you take me to another room and put me on my knees, sir?"

It's a powerful feeling he gets from watching Chris's pupils dilate. Just from Peter's words. They aren't even dirty words; Peter could have said so much more. But Chris wants him.

Chris wants him and Peter finds that intoxicating.

"I can do that," Chris says, his voice so low it sounds nearly hoarse. His heart thumps faster. He smells like arousal.

Peter feels almost lightheaded. Giddy. "I'd like to suck you off, too. If… if I can, sir." He says it haltingly, as if he's almost too shy to ask. He's not. He's just figuring out Chris likes it.

He realizes he really wants it, too. He's not just getting hard because Chris wants him. He's not just getting off on the idea of someone else desiring him. Chris is gorgeous, and he smells good, and the beard is sexy as hell.

"You can do that," Chris says. He kisses Peter's cheek, lips lingering against his skin. Gentle. Sweet. Clearly holding himself back.

Peter smiles and stands up. He looks over at Ennis, who holds up four fingers. Room 4 is empty then. "Come with me?" Peter says, giving Chris a hopeful look. Peter leads him to the private room and Chris follows.

There's a luxurious chair in the room, and Peter smiles when Chris takes it, ready to fall to his knees. But Chris doesn't give him the order. Instead, he pulls Peter into his lap and looks at him. "What other things do you like?" he asks. "Or have you had a chance to find out yet?"

"I know some things," Peter says. He doesn't want to lie, but Chris has a gleam in his eye that tells Peter more than his words. "I know I don't like a lot of pain." He drops his eyes and Chris rubs his back. 

"A lot of people don't," Chris says in a reassuring tone. Peter likes that Chris is looking out for him, wanting him to be comfortable. Even though Peter's no longer worried about his lack of masochism, it's nice to hear.

It's not that he wants to play Chris, but he does want to give him what he wants. Peter looks up through his lashes. "You don't think it makes me a bad sub?"

"I think you're a sweet boy, and if anyone ever says you have to do something you don't like in order to be 'good', they're lying. They're being selfish little manipulative shits."

Peter can't help but laugh. He smiles at Chris. "Thank you, sir."

"Can I kiss you now?" Chris asks.

Peter nods quickly and Chris pulls him in and kisses him softly. It's barely there but Peter still feels it like a lightning strike.

"You ready to get on your knees for me, sweetheart?" Chris asks. 

"Yes, sir."

"Okay. Get down and put your hands on my knees. I want you to tap my knee if you need to stop at any time. I'm not planning anything rough, but-"

Peter gets on his knees as fluidly, as gracefully, as he can. "You can be rough with me, sir," he whispers. He looks down, blushing. This time he doesn't even have to feign the embarrassment.

Chris is silent for so long that Peter thinks he didn't hear. He looks up to see Chris's reaction, and gets a thrill at the stunned lust on his face.

"Is that what you want, then?" Chris finally asks. His voice sounds even lower now, heavy with want. He lifts his hips a little as he unzips his jeans and pulls them down. "Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need."

Peter's eyes catch on Chris's dick. It's long and thick. He wants to choke on it. He will, if he gets his way. 

"I want you to fuck my mouth, sir," Peter says, voice trembling with excitement. Chris will think he's nervous.

Chris reaches out and pets Peter's hair, then guides his head down to his lap. "C'mon, then, sweetheart. Show me you can make me happy."

Peter's practically in a trance as he sucks Chris's cock. It's so big, stretching his mouth, sliding along his tongue in and out of his mouth, slowly at first, shallow. He wants more so he tries moaning and begging with his eyes.

"Yeah," Chris says. "Alright, baby. I'll let you have it." And then he pushes deeper. Harder. 

Peter loves it. Chris is just petting his hair at first, but then he grabs hold of it to take control and Peter moans around him. The grip on his hair, the tug against his scalp, sends him closer to where he needs to be. Peter's feeling grateful. Close to happy, even.

Then Chris's cock pushes to his throat and yeah, that's good. Peter doesn't choke but his eyes water. He takes a slow breath through his nose as best he can, the way he's taught himself.

"You're doing so well," Chris says, and it lights up something inside of Peter, that part of him that craves warmth and praise. It makes him want to please Chris more, to give him what he wants. He pulls off just a little and gives Chris a vulnerable, sweet look and watches as it makes lust flare in the Dom's eyes. "Can you take some more, sweetheart?"

Peter nods. "Yes, sir. Please, sir. I can be good."

Chris smiles. "Show me."

And Peter is… nervous? Sort of. Not, he thinks, in a negative way. Excitement curls in his abdomen. His cock throbs in his pants. He blinks up at Chris, then leans in again, licking the tip of the man's large cock. He tastes the salt and wants more. He leans in more, taking Chris in his mouth, but much more slowly this time. He lets his tongue caress the underside, looking up through his lashes at Chris's reaction.

Chris gives him an encouraging look, petting his hair again. "There you go."

And then Chris is at his throat again, and Peter breathes, and doesn't choke. Chris whispers how good he is and it gives him more incentive to try to take him deeper, to swallow around him.

"Jesus, kid," Chris says. "Fuck. Yeah."

Peter takes in the sounds Chris makes, the tighter hold in his hair again, and he floats.

He comes back to himself some time later, with only the haziest memory of what happened. Chris didn't come in his mouth, or on his face. He asks why.

"We didn't negotiate. I didn't know you'd drop into subspace, and I couldn't ask you then…" Chris looks concerned but there's a hint of smugness there, too. "You okay, baby?"

Peter smiles. "Really good. Thank you, sir."

Chris nods. "Do you feel like coming for me, then?"

Peter's dick throbs at the suggestion. He cuddles closer to Chris, breathing in his scent. He smells clean, with subtle musk and an underlying hint of gunpowder. Chris lets him close, stroking his hair. Peter's glad he's let it grow out a little. Chris seems to like it. 

"Can I, sir?" Peter asks, and presses his cock against Chris's thigh.

"Yeah," Chris says. He pulls Peter into his lap and Peter goes easily. He likes the way Chris manhandles him. "Let me watch you get yourself off. Go ahead."

Peter unzips his jeans and pulls his underwear down. His cock pulls free and he wraps a hand around himself. 

Chris tilts his head up. "Look at me."

The nervousness is back because Chris is looking into his eyes, searching them for something. It feels so intimate. Peter tries to focus on stroking his cock. 

"You're shy," Chris says. 

Peter is not shy, but Chris seems to want him to be shy. Peter bites his lip and looks down. 

"You're so sweet," Chris tells him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please, sir," Peter answers.

Chris leans in and kisses him, so gentle at first, and then he's cupping Peter's cheek and licking into his mouth. It's slick and hot, and Peter feels the soft scratch of beard against his chin. It's completely different from kissing Stiles but Peter likes it. He likes the way Chris tastes, the way he kisses. He can't help but moan softly into Chris's mouth, making the man smile against his lips.

"Keep touching yourself," Chris tells him, and Peter's cock jumps in his hand. 

Chris kisses him again. One hand tangles in Peter's hair and the other rests on his shoulder, thumb stroking back and forth. It's through Peter's shirt but he can feel the warmth of Chris's hand, the steady presence. 

"You're so sweet. You're gonna keep going until you come. Keep touching yourself, just like that. Does that feel good, sweetheart?" Chris asks. It makes Peter whimper, and then   
moan loudly when Chris's hand reaches down to cup his ass. "Like that?"

"Nngh, yes," Peter says, and gasps into Chris's mouth when the man's hand slides down the back of his jeans. His hand is like a brand on his skin, hot and strong. Chris grabs one side of his ass, kneading the flesh there, and Peter suddenly wants to give him everything. He pushes into the touch, begging with his body for more.

Chris laughs softly. "Keep touching your dick, baby. Gonna come for me, remember?"

"Yes, yes, I can, I need…" Peter gasps, begs, whines.

And one of Chris's blunt fingers presses right against Peter's hole and that's it, he's done. He comes all over his hand and the front of Chris's shirt. 

Chris kisses him through it. He seems to like holding Peter afterward. "Can I see you again sometime?" Chris asks after several minutes. 

Peter looks at him and smiles. "Yes, sir. I'd like that."


	25. Chapter 25

Stiles sighs and puts the letter down. He's jealous and he's not. He's…

He doesn't know what he is. Lonely, yes. Missing Peter, definitely. But he's also infinitely proud of his boy for finding someone he can be with in the meantime, when they can't be together.

He wonders if this Chris person is good enough. If he'll treat Peter right. If he'll satisfy Peter's needs of leave him hanging.

And then of course Stiles has to face the idea of Chris being better for Peter than Stiles is. It's a possibility. Maybe Peter will fall hard for Chris and forget all about his first love, his first Dom.

Stiles picks up the letter again. It's bittersweet to read. Peter is happy, that much Stiles can tell, even though he goes on to say he misses Stiles and loves him.

Stiles is proud of Peter. His boy insisted on a casual contract with Chris, showing how mature and thoughtful he can be about this. It shows he's growing, looking out for himself. 

Stiles, on the other hand, isn't seeing anyone. It's a bit of a hypocritical thing. He should be working on being a better Dom, so that if/when Peter is ready, he can show him he's grown as well. Stiles is too busy pining, though. At least, that's what Scott says.

* * *

Peter's waiting for Chris to show up at the club. They're supposed to meet there tonight and go back to Chris's place. He sits at the bar and watches Ennis make drinks. 

He's surprised when Deuc sits beside him and ruffles his hair. "Hey, kid."

Peter rolls his eyes but a smile tugs at his mouth. "Hey."

"Waiting on Argent?" Deuc asks.

"Does everyone here know everyone else's business?" Peter asks rhetorically.

Deuc laughs. "Well it is my club."

"Kali never bothers me with nosy questions," Peter grumbles.

"Just wanted to talk to you before you went out with him," Deuc says seriously, and Peter is smart enough to perk up and listen. 

"Yeah?"

"Does he know you're a werewolf?" Deuc asks. "Because Argents are hunters from a long time back in France."

"I was going to tell him tonight," Peter says.

"Good," Deuc says. "Do me a favor and do it here before you leave with him."

Peter knows Deuc is just being overprotective, but when he looks over at Ennis, he sees he's looking concerned, too. It won't hurt to do as Deuc says, he thinks rationally. "Okay."

Deuc squeezes the back of Peter's neck. "Good boy." Then he gets up and strolls behind the bar to give Ennis a breathless kiss. They're good together, now that they've decided they're more than just casual, but it only makes Peter miss Stiles more. 

He pushes that thought away. He's meeting Chris, after all.

* * *

Chris listens to Peter when he says he's a werewolf, and doesn't have much of a reaction beyond raising his eyebrows. 

"In case that makes a difference to you," Peter says carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Deuc and Ennis listening in like the nosy, overprotective Alphas they are.

But Chris shakes his head. He smiles. "It's fine with me. Is there anything I need to know specifically about you being a werewolf?"

Peter licks his lips. "Well, I mean, I'm a sub. There aren't many sub werewolves, and we've got… stuff. But we can talk about that later, once we're alone." He cuts his eyes over to Deuc and Ennis again. 

Chris nods. He smiles again. "Are you looking forward to tonight?" he asks.

Tonight they're supposed to go over their checklists. Peter's already told Chris he wants an informal contract before they do much more. Chris agreed readily, and tonight they're hashing out the details. It's a good time to tell him everything being a werewolf sub entails.

Chris drives. He has a nice SUV, though it's a little bigger than Peter thinks is necessary. He decides not to make a snarky remark, mostly because Chris doesn't seem to like a lot of sass and also because he already knows Chris doesn't need to compensate for anything. At least not dick-wise. 

Thinking about Chris's dick makes him feel hot and squirmy. He's horny as hell and can't wait for the negotiation part of the night to be done with. Peter's hoping very much that Chris will fuck him tonight.

Chris's apartment is nice. Big. Chris must be loaded. Peter asks what Chris does for a living as he's looking around.

"I own a small business. I supply weapons to most of the law enforcement locally. Guns and tasers, mostly. Argent Weaponry. Not to be confused with Argent Arms, which is my father's company."

Argent Arms sounds familiar, though Peter can't remember where he's heard of them.

Peter tilts his head. "So… your company isn't a branch of your father's, I take it?"

Chris shakes his head. "I'm estranged from my family. They're… well. We don't see eye to eye… politically." He's a lot more tense now, and Peter decides to drop the subject.

Peter pulls his checklist out of his pocket. It's an abrupt change of topic but he's sure Chris won't mind. "Here's my sheet."

Chris looks relieved. He takes the paper and motions Peter to sit on his sofa. He slides a piece of paper that's already on the coffee table over Peter's way. "And here's mine. Feel free to ask me anything you want about what's on it."

Peter's eyes skim over the paper he's been given. It's straightforward, with notes in the margins here and there to clarify. There are no 'maybe's. Chris knows what he likes and what he wants. Peter likes that about him. He likes the solid feeling he gets from Chris, from knowing he's dependable and mature. 

And Chris has a place in the community. He has a solid business and a lease. He's not going to be disappearing on Peter anytime soon. Peter can — if he wants, if they both want it — build a relationship with Chris.

"Your mind is somewhere else," Chris says fondly.

Peter blinks out of his thoughts. "Sorry, sir. I don't have any questions." Chris's checklist is clear and to the point.

"Then I'll ask mine," Chris says. "You say you're not sure if you like rope bondage, but you do like to feel secure?"

Peter nods. "My, um. The Dom I had before, he used magic instead of rope to bind me, and we never really got around to trying out any other kinds of bondage."

Chris smiles. "Would you like to try it? I'd love to see you tied up."

Peter's eyes glance down at Chris's sheet. "Shibari's always looked beautiful in pictures."

"I'd be happy to show you what it's like," Chris says, voice going even huskier than usual.

Peter smiles. He'd love to feel secure again, the way he felt when Stiles held him down with his magic. He'd be able to break any rope, but he'd still like the _feel_ of it, he thinks.

"Can I kiss you, baby? You've got the sweetest look on your face," Chris says.

Peter nods and licks his bottom lip. He knows Chris likes his mouth, likes it when he brings attention to it in little ways.

Chris sits beside him on the sofa and pulls him into his lap until Peter's straddling him. "I don't think you know how pretty you are," Chris says.

Peter knows. Stiles gave him more confidence in himself, but he's always known he's attractive. But Chris seems to like it when Peter acts demure, shy, and a little self-conscious. The man has his kinks and Peter's been good so far at figuring them out.

Chris kisses his mouth carefully, and Peter lets him take utter control. He's much more passive with Chris, he realizes. But Chris gets more out of it that way, and pleasing Chris helps Peter slip down into a good place even faster.

Chris kisses him for a few minutes, then pulls away. His eyes are dark and full of desire. Peter loves that it's all for him.

"We need to finish up our negotiation," Chris rasps. 

Peter makes a soft whining sound. He knows, but he also knows Chris would take him here and now if he could.

Chris pets Peter's hair. "None of that. This is important."

"Yes, sir," Peter says. He lowers his eyes, showing classic submission. 

The contract itself only takes half an hour. It's casual but Peter feels better for having it. Stiles's lessons have made their impression.

"And now that's settled, we can get back to where we were," Chris says.

Peter smiles and lets Chris lead him back to his bedroom.


	26. Chapter 26

Peter and Chris have been together long enough that Peter knows exactly what turns Chris on, what games he likes to play, what part he likes _Peter_ to play. Peter loves it. Giving Chris a particular look up through his eyelashes, putting on an innocent act, and watching Chris fall for it every single time is _fun_. Sometimes they roleplay and that's fun as well. They both get off on it, and every scene seems to get better the more they know each other.

Tonight is the first time they're playing like this, though. Chris asked Peter for something in particular, and it was something Peter's been thinking about for awhile himself.

Instead of calling Chris 'Sir', tonight he's 'Daddy'. 

Chris gives Peter another chance to back out. "You can stop whenever you want. You know I'll understand."

Peter licks his lips and looks up from where he's kneeling. "I want to," he says in a shy voice. He shifts a little like he's embarrassed. "Want to be your good boy."

He's flushing from excitement, and he gets a warm feeling when Chris smiles down at him.

Really, Chris makes for a perfect Daddy Dom. He's gentle and kind, with a firm hand. The beard helps sell the whole package, and Peter's been dreaming of this for awhile, if he's absolutely honest. 

"You don't look very comfortable down there. Come here and sit on my lap," Chris says. 

Peter's not naked yet, though he's only wearing a tight pair of briefs. That's something Chris and Stiles have in common — they both love seeing him in that, though Chris prefers he wear white ones. Chris slides his hand over Peter's ass before Peter arranges himself, making Peter squirm. It's not hard to pretend to be nervous and inexperienced, especially when he knows how much Chris likes it.

"That's a good boy," Chris says. "Now, give Daddy a kiss."

Peter smiles and offers his mouth. Chris claims it quickly, kissing him thoroughly. His beard scratches against Peter's skin while Chris's tongue explores his mouth slowly. Peter can't help but squirm a little and moan.

Chris pulls back, and when he looks at Peter, his eyes are bright. He looks happy. "Good boy." One of his hands slides up between Peter's thighs. His touch is electric, making Peter whine for more. He feels his heartbeat speed up. Chris kisses him again, a low groan sounding in his throat.

"Have you been a good boy today?" Chris asks. "Did you do what I asked?"

"Yes, Daddy," Peter says. "I'm all clean for you."

"Inside and out?" Chris asks, making Peter blush.

"Yes, Daddy," Peter whispers.

"Such a good boy for me," Chris murmurs, one of his hands sliding down Peter's back, under his briefs, to tease his hole. "I'm going to eat that pretty ass until you beg me to come."

"Please," Peter moans, trying to wriggle back on Chris's fingers. He's dry but he doesn't _care_. Chris is promising him delicious things and Peter's feeling slutty.

"I'll take care of you, baby boy," Chris says. "Crawl up on the bed, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Peter says, and quickly does as he's told. "On my belly, Daddy?"

"Yeah. Take your underwear off first, though."

Peter scrambles to do so.

"You're so eager tonight," Chris says fondly. Peter shivers all over and Chris notices. He runs a hand down Peter's naked back. "Is that right? Are you eager for me, baby?"

"Yeah, oh please," Peter gasps, pushing against Chris's hand like a cat being petted.

Chris hums. One of his hands teases Peter's crack. "Please, what?"

And Peter kind of blanks on what he wants to say. Part of him is frustrated that Chris doesn't know what he wants, that Peter needs a little humiliation to go with everything else. But how would Chris know? Peter hasn't told him. Hasn't included it on his checklist and hasn't brought it up in any negotiations.

But Peter knows it's because he wants to share that with Stiles, and only Stiles. Peter wants to only be Stiles's slut, even though he knows it's a huge kink for him and he'd probably enjoy it a lot if Chris talked to him the way Stiles did.

"Please, Daddy," Peter finally whispers. It's not what Chris was asking, but…

"Good boy," Chris rumbles. It's what Chris likes. It's what he wants, ultimately. A sweet boy who looks at him with a shy smile and adoration in his eyes. A demure, innocent boy who Chris can teach and stroke and _love_.

It doesn't matter if that's not who Peter is. Chris thinks it is, and it makes Peter happy to give him what he wants. It fills a void inside him that's been empty and aching since Stiles left him.

"You're so sweet," Chris tells him, kissing his way down Peter's spine. Peter lets out a small mew of pleasure, then gasps when Chris pulls his cheeks apart and licks at his hole.

This is the first time Chris has eaten Peter's ass. Peter wasn't sure what to expect, but this is amazing. Chris's beard and moustache rasp against some pretty sensitive places, and Peter _loves_ it. He moans loudly and pushes back into Chris's face. Chris hums with amusement. 

"Like that, baby?" he asks. "Like the way Daddy licks your hole so good?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Peter chants breathlessly. He leans forward and rubs his cock against the bedsheets, then pushes back against Chris's face again. "Please, Daddy."

"So greedy," Chris says. "Get up on your knees, baby. Don't want you rubbing off like that on the bed. You'll come too fast and I don't want that. Want you to come on my cock."

Peter whimpers but does as he's told. As long as he gets fucked soon, he'll do whatever Chris says.

Chris licks Peter deep and adds fingers fast enough that Peter's not left wanting for long.

It all feels incredible but for some reason, Peter's not hitting subspace. He's not even close, come to think of it.

He puts it out of his mind. He can ask later for something more. For now, he's actually looking forward to being fucked, even if it's not quite doing it for him in a way that goes beyond his dick.

When Chris fucks him, his cock stretches Peter in all the right ways. He fucks deep and strong, and Peter loves it. Chris moves him onto his side so he can fuck him slower, can wrap his arms around him, and Peter… doesn't love it as much, but then Chris wraps a hand around his cock and whispers in his ear how sweet and good he is, and it's nice. Peter comes, gasping 'Daddy' and Chris's orgasm follows quickly.

Chris holds him after, kissing his shoulder and telling him what a good job he did, how good he was for Daddy. 

Peter feels an itch under his skin.

* * *

The itch only gets worse. Peter goes home and goes into his room, taking the cuff Stiles gave him from its place. He doesn't put it on, not yet. He's not sure he's allowed to.

He needs Stiles.

He holds the cuff in one hand and his phone in the other. He breathes shakily. Whatever it is that's wrong with him is getting worse.

* * *

When the call comes, Stiles is already asleep. He's in New York, and while he knows it's much earlier in California, it's still late.

He answers the phone as soon as he reads the name. 

"Hmm. Hello, sweetheart," he says muzzily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "What's up?"

Peter's breathing sounds a little too quick, though Stiles thinks it _might_ just be the connection. But when Peter blurts out, "Can I wear your cuff? Can I put it on?" Stiles knows something is very wrong.

"Of course you can, baby," Stiles says, waving his hand and turning the bedside lamp on. "But first, can you take some deep breaths for me? I'm going to count. Okay?"

Peter sucks in a noisy breath and Stiles starts counting slowly. Peter breathes again before Stiles tells him to, but that's okay. He's got to be pretty anxious for that to happen. Stiles tries again.

"Breathe in, two, three, four, five…" he says slowly, and this time Peter seems to be doing better. "Good boy. Now breathe out, slowly, two, three, four, five. Good."

Peter continues to breathe like that, and Stiles continues to count. It's hard to hear over the line but Stiles thinks Peter has calmed down enough to talk, now. 

"Put my cuff on now, sweetheart."

There's an audible sigh of relief. Stiles doesn't know what's happened but he knows it's _something_ and he's going to get to the bottom of it. But first, he's going to make sure his sub feels secure enough to talk about it.

"What does that mean, baby, when you wear my cuff?" Stiles asks.

Peter sucks in a breath. "I… I'm yours, sir."

Stiles lets his smile and praise shine through in his voice. "Very good. And what else does it mean? What happens when you're mine?"

"You take care of me, sir," Peter says, his voice full of relief.

"That's right, baby. You're mine and I take care of what's mine, don't I?"

There's a short pause and then Peter says, "I need you. Stiles. Sir. I need you so bad, I don't know what's wrong…"

"Okay, baby. I'm here. I'm with you, okay?" Stiles says, wishing he was physically with his sub right now. But instead, he's on the other side of the country. Well. If he'd been toying with the idea of going back to visit before, he's definitely made up his mind now. "I know it's just the phone, but I'll be there soon enough to see you face to face, too. Okay?"

Peter lets out a sound like a sob. "Yes. Please."

"Okay. I'd really like to see you right now. Can you get on Skype for me? I'd really appreciate it if you did."

"Yes, sir. Let me just… I'll get my laptop."

"I'll get mine, too," Stiles says. He could Skype on his phone but he'd rather have a bigger picture, plus be able to have his hands free.

It takes awhile for Stiles's laptop to come alive and do its thing, but he stays on the phone with Peter the whole time, telling him he's so good for calling, and how proud Stiles is of him. 

"I didn't know what else to do," Peter admits quietly.

"Well you did the right thing," Stiles tells him. 

Finally, their laptops are ready and Peter calls Stiles on Skype. Stiles picks up immediately, eager to get a look at Peter so he can better understand what's happening.

Peter looks… pale. He keeps his eyes averted, like he's ashamed he had to call Stiles. He keeps touching his cuff like he's afraid it won't be there. 

Overall, he looks extremely tense, and Stiles knows that's not right. He should be taken care of. Peter told him about a new Dom in his life, and as much as it killed him to think about, he knows that's what's best for Peter. So this is unexpected and wrong, and Stiles wants to jump through the screen and _fix it_.

"Okay, let's talk," Stiles says. He runs a hand through his hair and scrubs at it. "Did something happen tonight?"

On the screen, Peter bites his lip. Definitely anxious. Nervous. Guilty?

"Baby? I can't help unless you tell me."

"It's stupid," Peter says. "I just… I didn't hit the right headspace. Like… at all."

"What did the Dom say about it… Chris, right?" Stiles asks, and Peter nods slowly. "Okay, so did Chris-"

"I didn't tell him," Peter blurts out. He looks up and Stiles is taken by how much frustration and pain is in Peter's eyes. 

"Why not, baby?" Stiles asks.

"I don't know!" Peter says, sounding even more frustrated now. "It didn't feel right. He doesn't feel right."

Stiles never had this kind of problem with Peter before. He's genuinely shocked that Peter — outgoing, sarcastic, bold Peter — would have a problem with communication this deep.

"Tell me about him," Stiles says, and while he doesn't really want to hear about Peter's new Dom, he's definitely eager to get to the root of this problem so Peter can stop feeling like shit. Stiles suspects subdrop, actually, but he can't be sure yet.

"He's… nice. A good person. He likes it when I pretend to be this… innocent kid. I-"

"Is that roleplay or does he think that's you?" Stiles asks.

"Well it's roleplay for me," Peter says dryly.

"Okay. So how does Chris treat this innocent young sub who isn't you?"

"Good? Lots of praise, lots of sweetness…" Peter trails off and sighs. "I don't know what's wrong with me. He's a good Dom, I think. And I've hit subspace with him before. Just tonight, nothing was working. He didn't- Nothing he said or did really got me there."

Stiles is quiet for a moment, thinking. Then he says, "When he says those things, when he's sweet, is it to you or to this person you're pretending to be? When you're with him, are you his?"

Peter looks away and clutches at his cuff. Tight.

"Okay," Stiles breathes. "Oh, baby." He wants to scold Peter, to shake him, to hold him tight and let him fall to pieces so he can put him back together. But right now he can't. He's got to work with what he has, and that's going to have to be enough.

"I'm sorry," Peter whispers.

"You don't have to apologize to me, baby," Stiles says. "But I think you should tell Chris what's going on."

Peter hangs his head. "I know. I know I should."

Stiles thinks Chris doesn't know the extent of Peter's needs as a werewolf sub, either, but he doesn't want to add to Peter's guilt and anxiety by bringing up the fact. He does know that if Peter isn't feeling owned or dominated enough, it's only going to add to the difficulties he's having.

Stiles knows Deucalion would have been able to put Peter in his place easily, mostly because of his Alpha status and his knowledge of werewolf subs. Peter wouldn't have had to explain to Deuc. Has he explained to anyone? It should be part of any negotiation Peter is involved with.

Stiles feels a pang of guilt for not preparing Peter well enough. He never thought of this. He's thought of Peter as mature and outspoken enough to tell a Dom what he needs, but apparently Stiles was wrong.

"You're really coming back?" Peter asks.

"I promise," Stiles says. "I'll see you very soon."

"Wish you were here now," Peter mutters.

Stiles smiles at him across the country. Hooray for Skype, he thinks. "I know. I wish I could just reach out and touch you. Take care of you the way you need."

"I don't feel good, sir," Peter says quietly.

"We're gonna work on that, baby," Stiles says. "Because you're mine, and I'm going to make my boy feel better."

He watches Peter take a deep breath and let it out, his body going looser, more comfortable.

"There you go," Stiles says. "Take your shirt off for me. Let me see you."

Peter smirks. It's shaky but it's there. "Just my shirt, sir?" he teases.

Stiles smiles. "Well. Let's see you strip down, then. Leave your underwear on."

Peter does as Stiles says, taking his clothes off and sitting on his knees in front of his laptop. He's eager to be good, Stiles knows.

"There's my beautiful boy," Stiles says. "Touch your neck. Imagine my hand there."

He watches as Peter closes his eyes and bares his throat. He touches himself there, just his fingertips, and Stiles knows he's remembering specific times Stiles touched him. 

"Just like that. You're so good for me," Stiles says. "I love touching you."

He hears Peter moan softly. 

"I know. I know, baby. Now drag your hand down your chest. Your nipples need some attention, I can tell." Stiles leans in, watching raptly as Peter touches himself, doing just as Stiles asks. More importantly, he can tell Peter's slipping into the right headspace, which is exactly what he needs. "Right there. Pinch your nipple, baby. Not hard, just a tease. Just like I'd do it. You know how."

He watches as Peter obeys him, his mouth opening wide on a gasp.

"There you go," Stiles says. "Keep doing that. Keep… god. You're so beautiful. My beautiful boy."

Peter whines and jerks his hips a little. 

"Take the underwear off, sweetheart. Let's see all of you."

He knows Peter's tells, all of them, and the way Peter moves to obey before Stiles is done talking shows him just how deep Peter is already. 

Stiles continues to talk Peter through touching himself, teasing and praising him until Peter's whimpering and begging for more. Peter's only playing with his nipples and he's this far gone. Stiles is interested to know what will happen once he gets to touch below the belt.

"Open your nightstand and get your lube out. You bought the kind I told you to, right?" Stiles asks.

Peter nods. "Yes sir," he says, and briefly moves out of the camera range.

"Good boy," Stiles says when he comes back. He wants to remind Peter to make sure he stays away from drug store lube, but he gets the feeling Peter's already halfway to subspace and Stiles doesn't want to accidentally pull him out of it. He wants Peter to go deeper, and important conversations aren't good for that.

"Your dick is so pretty," Stiles says, watching the hard length bob whenever Peter moves. Peter moves slides his hand up his thigh toward his cock, but Stiles stops him. "You're not touching that yet."

Peter nods and pulls his hand away completely. "Yes, sir."

Stiles gives him a pleased smile. "Good. You're so good. I know how eager you are, how needy you get, but you're still so good for me. Can you open yourself up for me, baby? You wanna show me how pretty you are like that?"

"Yes, I… please, sir." Peter's hand closes around the bottle of lube but he doesn't do more yet. Waiting for explicit permission. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me," Stiles says. His own cock is hard in the boxers he wore to bed, and he presses against it with the flat of his palm. 

Peter groans. "Can… can I watch you touch yourself, sir?"

Stiles grins. He pulls the front of his boxers down so his erection springs free. He wraps a hand around the base. "This what you want, baby? Look how hard you make me." Peter's eyes go wider and Stiles laughs. "But I want to watch you stretch yourself open for me. Put on a show for me, baby. Let me see you work that greedy hole."

It's hard to tell, but Stiles thinks he can see Peter flush with excitement. He knows how to talk to Peter, how to get him worked up. He's taking full advantage.

Peter nods quickly and pours lube into his hand. He's over-generous with it, but more is better than less, Stiles thinks. 

Soon, Peter is fingering himself and Stiles is watching in rapt attention. Peter has situated the laptop between his legs, a precarious position because now he can't move too much without messing up the camera.

"That's good, baby," Stiles says. "Add another finger now, and tell me how it feels."

"'s good," Peter tells him, working another finger in alongside the two that are already there. "Stretch. Burns a little. Good, though."

Stiles jerks his cock slowly, watching as his boy moans and starts to pant. "Good boy. Such a pretty, slutty little hole."

Peter's cock jerks at Stiles's words. "It feels good," he groans. "Need to come, sir. Please."

"Not until I do, baby. You can touch your cock a little, though. Let me see you squeeze it," Stiles says. 

Peter does just as Stiles says and cries out. "Oh god," he gasps. "Please, please…"

"Look at you," Stiles murmurs. "You're so pretty when you beg for me. But I already told you, you're not coming until I do. And I'm not there yet."

Peter groans. 

"It's okay, baby. I won't leave you hanging for too long. You're mine and you know I'll take care of you, right?"

"Yes, sir," Peter says. He opens his eyes again and he looks so dazed and happy. It makes Stiles feel good to know he's taking care of his sub so well.

Stiles strokes his cock faster, taking in everything about how Peter looks, how fast he's breathing, the little whimpers he makes as he works his fingers inside himself. He's beautiful, perfect, and in this moment he's all Stiles's. He wishes he was there with him so he could touch that smooth skin, taste his sweat, then hold him down and fuck him hard.

He tells him as much.

"Yes, please, need you," Peter answers.

"Nudge that prostate for me," Stiles says.

Peter's breath quickens as he twists his fingers inside himself, and then he jerks and moans, and Stiles knows he obeyed perfectly. "Fuck," Peter says hoarsely.

Stiles strokes his length. "Again, baby. Show me how close you can get without touching that pretty cock of yours."

"I… I can't, I'm so close, sir I'm gonna come…"

"Do it," Stiles says, and Peter whimpers. It's a beautiful sound.

Peter jerks again and Stiles can see his thighs shaking from the strain of holding back.

"That's my boy, being so good, so good for me," Stiles gasps, stroking faster until he groans and comes all over his own belly and chest.

Peter's had his eyes open the entire time, watching him, and now he moans again. "Now, sir? Please?"

Stiles grins at the screen and nods. "Yeah, baby. Let me see you come. Can you do it without touching your cock? Let me see you."

"Ngh, I'm so close, just…"

"You're so good, sweetheart. You're gonna come just from your fingers and my voice. You're gonna come because I tell you to, because that's how much of a slut you are for me, my perfect boy."

"Yes sir, I'm yours," Peter gasps, and then comes so hard he jostles the laptop and knocks it over. 

Stiles can't see anything, but he can hear Peter panting in the aftermath.

"Good boy," Stiles says, grinning and wishing he could wrap Peter up in his arms and hold him for hours.

It takes a few minutes before Peter's with it enough to put the laptop right and the first thing Stiles notices about him is how happy he looks. Just…. happy and beautiful and so perfectly _Peter_ that Stiles can't help what he says next.

"I love you so much," he says.

Peter reaches out to touch the screen. "You're really coming back?"

Stiles nods. "Yeah, baby. I'll be there."

Peter moves around, dragging his laptop. He ends up lying down with the laptop propped up on a pillow beside him. Like Stiles is lying in bed with him. It makes something in Stiles's heart hurt.

"When?" Peter asks.

"As soon as I finish this job I'll get a flight out," Stiles says. "Shouldn't be more than a few more days."

"How long can you stay?" Peter asks.

Stiles is truthful. "I don't know yet."

Peter sighs. Stiles can tell he's disappointed in the answer. Peter's quiet for a few minutes, just watching Stiles on the screen, and then he says, "What was that, before? When I called you, what was wrong with me?"

"Subdrop," Stiles says. "You were feeling pretty bad about not being able to dip into subspace with Chris and you dropped, instead."

"It felt awful," Peter says. "And that… I've heard it can get worse than that. I don't even want to think about it."

Stiles nods. "You've got to talk to Chris, baby. Tell him everything, or you risk dropping again. Plus, we know what happens if you can't hit subspace for awhile."

"Why was it so much easier with Deuc when we didn't even do anything sexual?" Peter asks, curiosity in his voice.

Stiles answers slowly. "I think… because he's an Alpha, so you subconsciously were better able to submit to him. The wolf hierarchy is a serious thing, and you know on a deeper level how to let go with him. Let him take control. Plus Deucalion knows about werewolf subs better than most people do because of his relationship with Ennis."

Peter nods thoughtfully. His hand circles his wrist, over the cuff there. "I love you too, you know."

"I know, baby."

"Can you… stay online with me for a little while, just until I fall asleep?" Peter asks.

Stiles nods. "Sure. Let me clean up and get back into bed, okay?"

He wipes himself down in the bathroom and comes back to his computer, then moves it to one side of his bed like Peter has done. Propped up on a pillow. As if Peter's there with him in bed.

"Thank you for taking care of me tonight," Peter whispers, but Stiles hears him loud and clear.

"I'm always here if you need me, sweetheart. Any time."


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading the final 3 chapters today. I hope you enjoy them!

Peter's days are not all scenes and Doms and hanging out at _les Pleurs_ with Ennis. He's got a life, and that life includes his pack and school.

He helps Richard in the kitchen. He plays incredibly easy games of hide and seek with Cora. He helps Laura and Derek pick out new clothes for warmer weather, and he's slowly sliding into his position as Talia's second in command, listening to pack problems and offering suggestions when Talia asks for his opinion.

Elpha and Alexander aren't a huge part of his life, but they're still pack, and he knows he can go to Alex for 'sub' things, even though now he's more likely to ask Ennis, since he's another werewolf sub and he understands things Alex doesn't.

At school, he's doing well. Not straight A's in every class, but close enough. Marin is doing better than him in chemistry, so she offers to tutor. Peter scoffs. 

"I just need to pay more attention," he says. "Plus I have a B, it's not like I'm failing."

Marin raises her eyebrows. "We could study together, at least. We have that big test coming up on Friday."

Peter grins. "Did I tell you Stiles is coming back on Friday?"

Marin rolls her eyes fondly. "Yes, about twelve times now. But you still need to study."

"I know. I just… so much to do, you know?" he says.

"You still need to talk to Chris, right? What's that about, or do you not want to tell me?"

Peter sighs. Hangs his head. Taps his pencil on his notebook. "Just some stuff. I need to come clean with him about a few things. And explain werewolf subs a little more, since I still don't think he gets it."

"He can't get it if you don't tell him," Marin says, frowning.

"What if he doesn't want to scene with me anymore?" Peter asks. His bottom lip is sore from being chewed on but he continues to do it anyway.

"That's his decision and you don't have any control over it," she tells him.

"That's such a shrink thing to say," Peter grumbles.

Marin ignores the dig. "You should probably tell him more about Stiles, too."

"We're not exclusive," Peter says defensively. "Chris and I are only casual."

"Hmm," Marin says, and manages to sound doubtful with just that.

"Why are we always talking about my life? Don't you have… stuff?" Peter asks.

Marin laughs. And laughs. "Yes, Peter. I do have 'stuff'. I have school and Emissary training, and that's quite enough for me. I don't have time to fit a Dom in there."

"But don't you want to… I don't know. Isn't it hard?" Peter asks.

Marin smiles. "It's not the same as it is with you. You need it a lot more than I do. And in the meantime, my brother serves as a competent Dom if I need to go down."

Peter remembers what it was like to rely on his sister for his submissive needs and winces.

Marin catches his expression and laughs again. "It's fine. It works for us. Plus I'll be eighteen soon and I can maybe go with you to that club you like and… maybe I'll find someone to scene with. Casually."

"Want me to keep my eye out for someone for you?" Peter asks. 

"No!" Marin says quickly. "That's not necessary."

Peter smirks. "You sure?"

"This is why you have a B in chem and I have an A. I don't want a Dom until I've graduated, and maybe not even then. I still have a lot of training to become an Emissary."

"Boring," Peter says. "But your choice."

"Obviously."

* * *

Peter has Chris meet him at the club. Once Chris arrives, Peter leads him back to one of the private meeting rooms for a talk.

He's not sure where to start. 

"What's this about?" Chris asks.

"I just have some things to tell you," Peter says. "And it's… it feels like a lot, and I'm not sure where to start."

Chris sits down in one of the chairs. He gestures for Peter to sit, but Peter shakes his head.

"I'd rather stand," he says. He takes a breath. "And probably pace."

"Just start at the beginning," Chris suggests.

But Peter doesn't think that's the best place. He shakes his head. "I didn't hit subspace with you in our scene the other night," he says. "And when I got home, I… well, I experienced subdrop for the first time, and I didn't know what it was, and I called my Dom…"

Chris looks shocked, and a little angry. Mostly shocked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Peter turns away from him and walks to the end of the room. Then he walks back. Pacing. He's not sure what he's doing, he wants this conversation to be over so much, but he knows it's something that needs to happen.

He hates being mature, but this is important.

"I thought maybe something was wrong with me. It was embarrassing. I… I don't hit subspace with you easily, at least… the more we go on, the worse it is. And I know why. It's… I'm not entirely myself with you. I spend all my time trying to be the boy I think you want, instead of myself, and then it's like playing a role only not… not in a good way. I mean, it's fun to play you like that, but I can't keep doing it, Chris."

Chris sits back in his chair. "You want to explain what you're talking about? Give me an example."

Peter sighs and finally sits down, slumping down in a chair. "I'm not shy. I'm not uncomfortable with what I want. I'm not that innocent, but you seem to like me like that. You want this sweet, shy boy with little experience to coddle and teach and so… I pretend to be that boy. It makes you happy."

Chris is silent for a long time. He looks at Peter, his face mostly blank, and Peter can't read him. He can't tell if he's hurt or angry or what.

And Peter doesn't know if he cares, particularly, if this hurts Chris. He's a good man, and he's been a good Dom, as much as Peter's let him, but Peter doesn't really… _care_ that much about him. He wants to continue on with him, but then again he doesn't. As much as he's tried to move on, he still just wants Stiles.

"You said you called your Dom," Chris says. 

Peter bites his lip. "He's not really my Dom," he says. "It just slipped out that way."

But Peter knows that's a lie. Stiles is his Dom in all the ways that matter. He's the Dom in Peter's heart. If Chris was a werewolf, he'd be able to catch the lie in Peter's heartbeat.

"Can you tell me what happened when you called him?" Chris asks.

Peter shrugs. "I told him what happened, and we got on Skype and he… fixed me."

"He fixed you," Chris echoes blankly.

"I felt awful," Peter admits. "I've never been in subdrop before but Stiles recognized it and he… he talked me through some stuff and then I hit subspace and I… He made it better."

Chris laughs softly, but there's no humor in it. "You must trust him a lot if he was able to take you down over Skype."

"Yeah, I do," Peter says softly. 

"And you don't trust me," Chris says.

"It's not that. Stiles just knows me better," Peter says defensively.

"You haven't given me a chance to get to know you, Peter," Chris says, and he sounds frustrated.

Peter nods slowly. "Yeah. Stiles told me I needed to come clean with you. Tell you everything, so that you could take care of me." He sighs. "And to tell you more about werewolf subs, so you can understand better what I need from you."

"Peter, why aren't you with Stiles?" Chris asks.

"He wanted me to experience more out of life before I committed to him," Peter says. 

"So what am I?" Chris asks. "Your vacation Dom? Am I the one who's supposed to give you some more experience before you go back to the one you really want?"

Peter winces. "That's not fair."

"That's how it looks to me," Chris says. "God, Peter. I was going to ask to be your Dom. To back off the 'casual' label and maybe try for something real. And here… You're in love with someone else."

"I never said that," Peter says, and there's no telling what his face is doing right now.

"You didn't have to," Chris says sadly. "It's pretty fucking obvious."

"I'm sorry I wasn't more upfront with you," Peter says. "That was wrong of me. I… I really like you. I'm sorry."

"I can tell from this conversation that I really don't know you at all," Chris says. "And that's… we can't do this anymore."

Peter wasn't expecting that. "That sounds so final," he says, trying to smile.

"I just need some time to think. Maybe this weekend we can talk again, maybe renegotiate."

Peter bites his lip and shakes his head. "I can't this weekend. Stiles… I mean, he's coming back to town and…" He trails off. 

Chris gives him another indecipherable look. "I see."

"He's been gone for months," Peter says quietly. "Maybe we can talk again after he leaves?"

"Peter, think about what you're saying. Do you honestly think you're being fair here?"

Peter shakes his head. "Not really."

"I think maybe it's better if we stop seeing each other, to be honest," Chris says. 

"Okay," Peter says. He feels guilty but also kind of relieved. He takes a deep breath and says it again. "Okay."

"Goodbye, Peter." And then Chris gets up and leaves.

Peter stays in the room for a good fifteen minutes before there's a knock on the door.

"It's me," Ennis says through the door.

"Come in," Peter says.

"I saw Argent leave. He smelled pretty miserable. What happened?" Ennis asks.

Peter shrugs. "I showed him the real me, and the real me is kind of an asshole."

" _You_ don't smell miserable," Ennis says.

Peter smirks. "Like I said. Asshole."

"You want to talk about it?"

Peter shakes his head. "Nah. Thanks, though."

"Kali told me a certain Spark is coming back into town," Ennis says.

And now Peter can smile. "Yeah, he is."

"That have anything to do with this thing between you and Argent?"

"Probably has everything to do with it," Peter says truthfully.

"Well at least you admit it," Ennis says. "Will you be okay until then? Need Deuc for a scene?"

"It's just a couple of days," Peter says. "I'll be fine."

Ennis opens his arms. "C'mere, kid. You look like you need a hug."

Peter denies it, grumbles, but allows it all the same. It's nice. Ennis may be a sub, but he's a big guy, an Alpha, and his hugs make Peter feel cared for. It's a good feeling.

* * *

"So you're headed back to Beacon Hills, huh?" Scott says. He waggles his eyebrows ridiculously, and it makes Stiles grin.

"Yeah. I need to check in with Peter, see him with my own two eyes and not just over Skype."

"Uh huh," Scott says. "It'll be good for you. You've been looking like shit lately."

Stiles knows the rings under his eyes are dark, and he's lost a little weight, but he didn't think it was that noticeable. 

"You talk so much about how Peter needs to go under, but what about Domspace? When's the last time you scened?" Scott asks.

"You know the answer to that," Stiles says with a sigh.

"That's what you call a rhetorical question, since we _both_ know the answer," Scott says dryly. "At this point I think you should move there so you can be near your sub."

"He's not my sub," Stiles grumbles. "Not really."

Scott snorts. "That is some grade-A bullshit coming out of your mouth."

"You don't think it's too soon? He hasn't even graduated high school yet," Stiles points out.

"From what you've said, he's miserable without you," Scott says. "He's not doing well, you're not doing well, why don't you just give in to Fate and make the boy yours? Officially, I mean. It's obvious you've already got a claim on him."

"I really do love him," Stiles says. "But that's why I want to make sure I do this right."

"Honestly, I think you've both had enough space. It's time to do the right thing, and that means putting your cuff on him for good."

Stiles can't help but smile at that. "Hard to say no when that's exactly what I want."

"So what's stopping you?" Scott asks.

Stiles shrugs. "He's got a Dom."

"Temporary. Casual. You're the one he wants."

Stiles looks away, thinking of Peter and his upcoming visit. "We'll see what happens."


	28. Chapter 28

At school on Friday, Peter is restless. Impatient. He doesn't even remember the Chemistry test, which is probably a bad sign of how well he did on it.

In Dynamics class, Marin keeps shooting him knowing looks, but Peter does his best to ignore them. He doesn't feel like being teased any harder.

He writes in his journal, but most of it is _I can't wait to see Stiles. I can't wait. I've missed him so much._

Ms. Blake's lesson catches his attention, though. "Supernatural Doms are more likely to experience ups and downs than their human counterparts, like Dom space and Dom drop. And I'm including human magic users in my definition of 'supernaturals', so keep that in mind."

Peter perks up when he hears that. 

"All Doms can experience these things, but because of the way magic intersects with our dynamics, supernaturals may experience these headspaces more often or more easily."

Peter raises his hand. When Ms. Blake nods at him, he asks, "What does this mean for their subs?"

Ms. Blake smiles. "Good question. And the answer is simple: in every relationship, there needs to be balance. Give and take. Doms may be socialized to think they have to be strong all the time, and subs may be told all their lives that they need a Dom to take care of them, but the opposite is also true. Subs can and should be strong for their Doms when they need it, and sometimes as a sub you may need to take care of your Dom. Not just in service submission, but emotionally be there for your Dom."

And this isn't something Peter has thought a lot about. He's thought about how much he wants and needs Stiles, but he hasn't given consideration to Stiles's needs. Has Stiles been taken care of in the last months? Peter hasn't heard anything about a sub, and he thinks Stiles might have told him if he'd scened with someone, because Peter has told Stiles everything.

Do Doms need to hit Domspace like he needs subspace? Does being a Spark make it harder, like being a werewolf sub means Peter needs more/different things?

"Yes, Marin?" Ms. Blake says, and Peter realizes Marin has her hand up. 

"What happens to a Dom who's been deprived of the right headspace? And how long does it take?" Marin asks.

Peter knows Marin is thinking about her future pack, and thinks an Emissary would need to know this stuff. He wonders if it comes along under regular Emissary training or if this is more a specialization. 

"Moodiness, depression, anxiety… these are definitely things that can happen. And every individual Dom is different, so there's no telling exactly. A few days, a few weeks, sometimes months a Dom can go before they start feeling the effects, but like I said, supernatural Doms are more likely to slip into Domdrop. And of course Doms-"

Someone in the back of the class scoffs. "Doms don't drop like subs do."

"Oh, I assure you I'm telling the truth," Ms. Blake says dryly. 

Peter is thinking of Stiles again. Wondering if he's in danger of dropping. If he's already dropped. Peter decides they're going to have a talk about it once they see each other.

* * *

Stiles shows up at the Hale house right when he said he would. Peter's been pacing in front of the windows for two hours, ever since he got home from school. Thinking. Worrying. Wondering. _Pining_.

Peter stops pacing once he hears an unfamiliar car driving up the long driveway — a rental, probably — and he strains to hear more.

He won't be satisfied until he can hear Stiles's heartbeat in the same room, of course. And he can smell him. And see him. And _touch_ him.

It seems to take forever but then Stiles is parking and Peter's walking out the door to meet him. He doesn't run but it's a close thing. And then he's in Stiles's arms, holding on and being held, and he can smell the rich scent of him and hear his strong, too-fast heartbeat. 

"Fuck, I missed you," Stiles says first, and Peter can't help the noise he makes in agreement. 

And Peter wants to say, 'Stay' but he doesn't, because he knows Stiles won't listen, won't do it, so he keeps the word inside and says, "I love you," instead.

Stiles holds him tighter and says it right back. "I love you, too."

Peter finally pulls away so he can get a good look. What he sees isn't reassuring, and his Dynamics lesson comes back to him immediately. Stiles looks tired, worn, with bags under his eyes and cheekbones a little too pronounced, like he hasn't been eating enough. 

"Hungry?" Peter asks.

"Hell yes I am," Stiles says with a grin. "All I've had since this morning were pretzels and a Coke on the plane, plus a Little Debbie snack I bought at a gas station. Not very filling."

"Or healthy," Peter says dryly.

"So feed me up, baby," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows.

Peter leans in and kisses him. Lingers for a moment, just feeling the Dom's breath against his lips. "Come in, then."

Stiles takes his hand and they walk together into the house like no time has passed at all. 

"Stiles is here!" Peter calls when they get through the front door. Several people answer with 'Hi, Stiles' and Peter smiles. It's like Stiles is coming home, especially when little Cora comes rushing down the stairs to give Stiles a hug. 

Stiles picks the pup up and swings her around, giving her a giggle fit. "Hey, kiddo. Miss me?"

"Mmhm," Cora says. "Everyone does when you're gone."

Peter just happens to catch the look on Stiles's face, the shock that melts into pleasure. And he doesn't miss the burst of happy-scent, either.

Cora gets down and runs off toward the kitchen. He hears her ask Richard for a treat, and hears Richard promise dinner is coming soon.

Peter looks at Stiles and smiles. "She's right. Everyone in the pack loves you."

Stiles doesn't say anything, just smiles and leans in to kiss Peter again. Maybe he's speechless, or maybe he thinks Peter's trying to manipulate him into wanting to stay.

Peter hates that he's second guessing.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Stiles asks, and Peter forgot how goddamn perceptive he is.

"Are _you_ okay?" Peter asks. "You look tired."

Stiles shrugs. "Let's go eat and we can talk after."

That sounds like a plan to Peter, plus it implies they _will_ talk about it. And there's something to talk about, too.

Dinner is loud, boisterous, with the kids all asking Stiles questions about where he's been and what he's been doing. Talia and Richard mostly keep quiet, letting Stiles be, but Elpha and Alex join in on the questions. Peter just keeps looking over at Stiles, gauging his reactions, wondering if he's stressed and how to tell if he is.

One thing Peter notices is that Stiles only eats about half of what's on his plate, then pushes it away, claiming to be full. That's definitely not the same appetite he's had in the past, and so it stands out.

So Peter waits, and then after dinner, when everyone's scattered and Stiles and he are left alone, he grabs Stiles's hand and says, "Come on."

He leads him outside and to the cabin. It's dark now, but Stiles makes a ball of light to illuminate the path. Peter walks closer to him, and Stiles slings an arm around his shoulder. It's nice, like everything Peter's ever wanted. But it's not going to distract him from what he wants to know.

They go inside the cabin and close the door so that they're alone and the rest of the world is shut out. Peter could treat this so many ways. He could even ignore it. 

That's not going to happen. Peter turns on the living room lamps and Stiles's magical light winks out like it was never there. Peter looks him over again, and this time he's sure to take in everything.

"Are you…" he starts to ask, and trails off because flat out asking someone this seems rude. But he loves Stiles and he wants to help him. "When's the last time you scened, sir?"

Stiles sighs and plops down on the sofa, then runs a hand over his face. "When I was here last, unless we count our Skype call last week."

" _Stiles_ ," Peter says, feeling it like it's his own ache, his own pain.

"I didn't want anyone else," Stiles says, smiling in a way that tells Peter he's a hundred percent aware of what kind of hypocrite that makes him.

"You can't go on like this," Peter says. "You're… are you in a drop?"

Stiles sighs, louder, longer. He doesn't answer except to nod.

Peter drops to his knees in front of Stiles and looks up into his face. "Will you let me take care of you?"

Stiles reaches out and strokes Peter's hair. "How about we take care of each other?"

* * *

Stiles has never done anything in his life to deserve Peter Hale, but somehow he has him anyway. 

Peter looks up at him like he wants to give him the moon. "Tell me what you need, sir," he says, and Stiles wishes he could tell him. Wishes he knew.

"I don't know, baby," Stiles says. "I guess I just need you."

"You already have me, sir," Peter says, his smile impish and delightful. Stiles loves this boy. 

Stiles bends down a little and kisses Peter's forehead. "You're so good to me."

"Let me do something," Peter says, and leans his head down, resting his cheek on Stiles's knee. 

Strangely enough, just this is making Stiles feel better. For months he's felt as if he's had a weight on him, and having his boy at his feet, resting his head in his lap, is enough to feel lighter. 

Stiles strokes Peter's hair. "You are. Just this is… wonderful, baby. Just this."

Peter hums and rubs his cheek against the fabric of Stiles's jeans. "Yeah. I like this, too."

Stiles continues petting Peter and they're quiet for some time, just enjoying themselves. 

But then Peter says suddenly, "You shouldn't go so long between scenes."

"Are you scolding me, sweetheart?" Stiles asks, smiling.

"If I have to," Peter says. He lifts his head up and looks into Stiles's eyes. "You know better, don't you? I didn't realize what a big deal it was until today, but you've known all along, haven't you?"

Stiles opens his mouth to give a defensive answer, but Peter's face is telling him he won't accept excuses. Stiles sighs. "I thought I could handle it."

Peter snorts. "Because you're a big, bad Spark? Or because you're a Dom?"

Stiles gives a rueful smile. "A little bit of both, I guess."

"I can't take care of you if you're so far away, sir," Peter says. "I need to know you're okay when you're not here."

Stiles feels his heartbeat pick up and he knows Peter can smell his nervous excitement when he says, "Maybe I should stick around more, then."

Peter blinks. Picks his head up. He has a wary look on his face, like he's scared to believe what he just heard. Stiles understands. He's scared to believe it, too.

"Are you saying…" Peter says quietly. His voice is small and hopeful.

"I'm not sure what I'm saying," Stiles says truthfully. "I'm tired and worn out and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I guess as much as I want you to say you'll stay, you should probably wait until you're not in the middle of Dom drop to make a decision like that," Peter says. "Let's go to bed and you can rest a little. I'll give you a massage."

"You don't have to do that," Stiles protests.

"I want to," Peter tells him.

And who is he to argue with that?

* * *

Stiles wakes in the morning to the sun coming in through the window, the early dawn light playing across Peter's bare skin and giving him an almost magical glow. He looks like something out of a book. 

Stiles doesn't remember falling asleep the night before. The last thing he remembers is Peter just starting to give him a massage, and then everything faded into a pleasurable haze as Peter did his best to work out all the tension from Stiles's back muscles. He must have relaxed Stiles so much he fell asleep, hard.

And Peter stayed. 

Stiles kisses his shoulder, then noses along to his neck to kiss him there, too. He smells good, looks good, and Stiles wants to devour him. He slides his hand down Peter's back slowly, slowly, until it's at his ass and he can squeeze.

Peter moans and turns toward him. "Mm. Good morning," he says. He blinks his eyes open and smiles at Stiles as if he's the best thing to wake up to.

"Good morning, baby," Stiles says. His voice is hushed though he doesn't know why. There's something special about this morning, maybe. He wants to keep it quiet, keep it holy. Stiles rolls onto his back and pulls Peter with him. 

Peter goes a step further and straddles him, then leans down for a chaste kiss. When Stiles tries for more, Peter stops him. "Morning breath. Gross," he mumbles, then rolls off Stiles and heads into the en suite bathroom.

Stiles follows. 

They brush their teeth in tandem, as if they've had the same daily morning ritual all along. When they're done, Stiles pulls Peter in for a long, deep kiss. Peter laughs against his mouth and allows it.

"Toothpastey," Stiles says, waggling his eyebrows. He's feeling silly. Happy. 

Peter grins and gives him another quick kiss. "Go for a run with me this morning?"

"Sounds good," Stiles says, though he's not much of a runner. He can use his magic to keep up if he needs to.

"And then we can grab breakfast at the main house," Peter says.

"Mm," Stiles says, pulling Peter in close so he can hold him. Peter grins happily, like he's grateful to be manhandled into an embrace. "Do you have the whole day planned?"

Peter smirks. "Not the _whole_ day."

The more time Stiles spends with Peter, the better he feels. The weight is lifted, the clouds are parting, and he feels _happy_. They haven't even scened yet, but he still feels good.

They run, they eat, they hang out with the pups of the pack and watch cartoons all morning. They have lunch. They cuddle. And then Peter suggests they go to _Les Pleurs_. 

Peter explains, "We don't have to do anything, I just want to see Ennis and everyone."

"He's been a good friend to you, hasn't he?" Stiles asks. "It's great you found a mentor."

Peter opens his mouth and then closes it again, looking thoughtful. "I guess he's kind of my mentor. I've learned a lot from him, and it's nice to know another werewolf sub."

"I don't mind going to the club." Stiles grins and takes Peter's left wrist. "Will you wear my cuff?"

"I'd wear it forever if I could," Peter answers.

Stiles thinks of the permanent cuff he has hidden away in his luggage. He's not ready to give it to Peter, not yet, but soon, he thinks.

Soon.

He gives Peter a kiss as his reply.

* * *

The first time Peter went to the club, with Stiles, it was a totally different experience than it is now. Then, he was wide-eyed and taking in every detail, and the cuff on his wrist was most of what he could think about.

Now he's comfortable and happy. Wearing Stiles's cuff is still on his mind, but in a clearer way. He's not as distracted by it.

It's still early and the club isn't full of patrons yet, so Ennis isn't even behind the bar. He's sitting at a table in the lounge with Deuc when they walk in. They greet Peter, and grin at Stiles, though Peter can see they're both taking in his appearance and coming to their own conclusions, just like Peter did.

Stiles winces. Apparently he noticed the scrutiny, too.

"It's great to have you here, man," Ennis tells him. 

"Stiles," Deucalion says. "A word, if you will."

Stiles's mouth turns down but he doesn't say no. He gives Peter a quick kiss and follows Deuc. Peter knows Deuc will take him into his office, where it's soundproofed. Too bad. Peter would love to hear that conversation.

"He doesn't look so great," Ennis says in a low voice. 

Peter plops down into a chair close to him and sighs. "He looks better than he did last night, if you can believe it."

"He's a Spark, right?" Ennis asks.

"Yes, and no one thought to tell me he might have different needs than a human Dom until very recently," Peter says, annoyed.

"Hey, it's not your responsibility, it's his," Ennis says.

"I'm his sub," Peter says. "I should have known. I should have at least suspected."

Ennis nods slowly. "I get that. I also see what you're wearing on your wrist. Your left wrist again, at that."

Peter touches the cuff and smiles. "We mean a lot to each other."

"You ready to tell me what happened with Argent?" Ennis asks.

"I had fun with him, but I wasn't… I didn't act like myself with him. At first it was fun, just another game. But then it started interfering with… well," Peter makes a face. Shrugs. "Then I dropped and Stiles ended up taking care of me from thousands of miles away."

"That's rough," Ennis says sympathetically.

"When I told Stiles what happened, he told me I needed to come clean with Chris. Chris didn't take it too well. Turns out he was… I don't know. He talked about offering me more, shooting for something 'real'."

"Whoa, that's pretty fast," Ennis says.

"So it's not just me? That's weird, right?" Peter asks. 

"You only scened with him for a couple of months."

Peter sighs. "How much time have I really spent with Stiles, though? And I'd fucking jump at the chance for something permanent with him."

"True," Ennis says. "But I think you and Stiles are a special case. One of those meant-to-be kind of romances. You didn't even _date_ Argent. There's the difference. You had a temporary contract with him and you didn't see him outside of that. Think about that."

"Yeah, and when Stiles is here I practically live with him. He knows my pack. My pack _loves_ him," Peter points out.

"And Argent?"

"I never introduced him to anyone," Peter says. He shrugs. "I didn't really want to."

"That's was a sign, I guess," Ennis says.

Peter nods. He tilts his head toward Deucalion's office. "What do you think they're talking about?"

"You know what," Ennis says. "Deuc's looking out for you, so that means looking out for Stiles."

Peter's about to protest he doesn't need looking after, but the warmth of it fills him and he decides to let it go. There's nothing wrong with having good people on his side.


	29. Chapter 29

Stiles follows Deucalion into his office. He knows what's coming, but he does nothing to stop it. He deserves everything that's coming to him. Deuc will probably yell, point out how stupid Stiles has been, and tell him Peter deserves better than this. He'll be right.

Deuc closes the door and Stiles knows the room is soundproof. No one to hear the reaming he's about to get, at least. Hopefully they can keep it just between the two of them.

"Before you say anything, I know. I know, and you're right," Stiles says. "I didn't even realize what I was doing until I was already half depressed and… I shouldn't have let it happen. I know better than to let my needs go like this, and if it had been Peter doing it I would have been livid and understandably worried, so yes, I should take care of myself."

Deuc tilts his head. "Stiles."

"And I know I should come back to Beacon Hills more often, I mean, Peter was dropped for god's sake and yes I took care of it on Skype but it'd be so much better for him if I was here, I just don't know if I'm ready to stay yet, or if _he's_ ready yet…"

"Stiles," Deuc says again.

"I know! I've been irresponsible, with both of us. I'm a shitty Dom and I don't deserve Peter, but I've got him anyway so I'd better take care of him. I get it."

"Stiles, be quiet for a moment so I can speak," Deucalion says, and Stiles realizes he's been running his mouth in anticipation of what the other Dom would say instead of just listening. Whoops.

Stiles mimes zipping his lips.

Deuc smiles. "I would never say half of what you've just said to yourself," he says. "You're not a bad Dom, just inexperienced and trying your damnedest to be good for Peter, but you're trying _too hard_."

"I don't understand," Stiles says.

"I know. And therein lies the problem."

"I'm not inexperienced," Stiles points out.

"Oh? When's the last time you fell in love with your sub?" Deuc asks pointedly.

And well, he's got Stiles there. "I… haven't, before."

Deuc nods. "That's what you're inexperienced with, and that's all I meant. You don't want to hurt him so you're playing everything too safe, and in the meantime you're not taking care of yourself because all you want is to be with him."

Stiles sighs. "Nice trick with the mind reading," he mutters.

Deuc shrugs. "Call it an experienced eye. I can see what's happening because I've seen it before. I've been there before. And before you ask, no, there's no easy solution."

"Damn," Stiles says.

"Now have a nice glass of scotch with me and we'll sit quietly like gentlemen before you go back to your life."

"That's it?"

"Hmm," Deuc says. "One piece of advice, I suppose."

"Now we're talking," Stiles says.

"Stop underestimating Peter. He's a grown man, and he knows what he wants."

And then Deuc produces a bottle of amber liquid from his desk and pours two crystal glasses of the stuff. Stiles doesn't even want to guess how much it cost. Probably more than he's worth.

But Deuc shares his drink and Stiles hums and acts like he can appreciate the quality (he can't; most hard liquor tastes exactly the same to him — he's more of a pale ale man).

And in a little while, Stiles leaves the office to join Peter again, with Deuc's words echoing in his head.

* * *

Stiles takes Peter back home just as a storm rolls in. Peter wants to go up to the main house to help Richard with dinner, and Stiles tags along. He's planning to just hang out in the kitchen or near enough, grabbing scraps (which in Richard's kitchen are scrumptious) when he can, but Derek and Laura grab him for a game of Scrabble. They're bored and don't want to go out in the storm, so a board game it is. Cora wants to play too, but she can't read well yet so she ends up sitting down in Stiles's lap and declaring herself on his 'team'. It's adorable.

Talia walks through the room once and Cora happily yammers on to tell her about what Stiles is doing, and how they're winning the game (they really aren't because Derek is some kind of Scrabble genius and Laura seems to know every single two and three letter word in the dictionary) and how Stiles is the best.

Cora actually makes him blush with her praise, it's so profuse. 

Stiles can see himself easily settling in with this pack as their Emissary, and it should scare him. It's scared him in the past. Right now he's just warily happy.

At dinner, Elpha asks him about his work, what kinds of jobs he's done while he's been gone, and when Stiles assures everyone he's in no danger of being picked up by another pack, everyone seems happy and relieved. Alex keeps passing him the mashed potatoes and gravy, even after he's had seconds and thirds.

The power goes out right when they're finishing up dinner. Cora cries, so Stiles makes a light show for her out of magic. Talia gives him a grateful look and a squeeze on the shoulder. Cora grins at him with a gapped-toothed smile that warms his heart.

The lights are still out when it's time for Cora to go to bed. Talia takes her upstairs and Stiles sends another magical light away with them so they can see. A few minutes later, Talia comes back downstairs and informs him he's to go up and read Cora a bedtime story. He doesn't mind.

"What do you want me to read?" he asks Cora, who's in a purple nightgown, snuggled under her covers. 

He ends up reading a book about a pigeon who's not allowed to drive a bus. By the end of his third readthrough, he's illustrating it with illusions and Cora is fighting sleep to watch them. Stiles puts the book away and lights her ceiling with constellations. 

She falls asleep before he sneaks away.

* * *

The storm passes before too long, leaving just as suddenly as it sprang up. Peter and Stiles walk back to the cabin. The ground is a mix of mud and puddles, but neither of them mind. Stiles can magic their shoes clean once they're back inside anyway.

But once they're inside, they don't really remember the shoes because they crash together like a storm of their own. Stiles is desperate for Peter's skin and Peter seems equally needy. They don't even make it to the bedroom before Stiles is stripping Peter down and kissing his exposed skin, biting down and leaving marks when Peter moans for more.

It's incredible, and Stiles finds himself falling into Dom space when he orders Peter to his knees. Peter sucks him off, as slow and careful as Stiles tells him to, and it's so good. So perfect.

Stiles ends up carrying Peter to bed and caring for him there, giving him sips of water and massaging his poor throat. Soon Peter falls asleep, but Stiles is left staring at the ceiling, debating with himself because he's not sure what to do.

So he slips out of the bed and calls Scott.

"Do you know what time it is?" Scott gripes. 

"I need your help," Stiles says, ignoring his best friend's grumbling.

Scott sighs and Stiles can hear him getting out of bed. "Okay. Shoot. What's the problem?"

"I want to stay," Stiles admits. "The pack is great, Peter is great, and I feel so at home here. I can see myself being happy here in Beacon Hills and… I want to stay."

"So stay," Scott says. 

"It's not that easy," Stiles says. "This is a huge decision."

"Look, I'm going to tell you the truth and you need to listen to me," Scott says. 

"Okay. Lay it on me, bro," Stiles says.

"I know you. And I know you've been waiting for some big sign or big event to push your decision over and make you think it's… fate, or magic or something. But that's not going to happen. You need to look in your heart, figure out you love Peter more than anything else in the world, and then commit."

"I'm not good at commitment," Stiles says. "What if I fuck it up? What if I somehow hurt Peter by doing this?"

"You're hurting him by making him wait for you," Scott says. "And you've been hurting yourself. So stop it. Just make the decision and stay."

And Stiles realizes Scott is right. He's been waiting for something to happen, something to prove to him that this is the right thing to do. He's been putting the actual decision on other things and not himself, when it's actually all up to him. He's the only thing holding himself back right now.

In the other room, Peter is sleeping peacefully. Stiles could slip back into bed with him, spend a few more days in Beacon Hills, and then leave again. Only it would hurt. It always hurts. And it's not good for either of them.

The other option…

"Just do it," Scott tells him. And Stiles thinks he will.

He hangs up with Scott with new purpose. He slips into the bedroom and takes the cuff he had made special for Peter out of its hiding place. It's in a nice box, and for now he puts it on the bedside table.

Then he wraps his arms around Peter and holds on. He's not gonna let go. And as soon as Peter wakes up, he's going to tell him so.

He's made his decision.

* * *

Peter wakes slowly. He feels a little like he's still floating, it's so nice. Stiles's arms are around him, and it's the best feeling in the world.

"Hey," Stiles says.

"Mm," Peter says sleepily, nuzzling into Stiles's shoulder. "How long have you been awake?"

For some reason this makes Stiles laugh but he doesn't answer. He holds him closer, pets his hair, and makes Peter feel pampered and loved.

"I have something to tell you," Stiles says.

Peter goes still. "Not anything bad, I hope."

"Not at all," Stiles quickly reassures. "I just thought I'd tell you before I told Talia — I'm going to stay on and be the Hale Emissary. I… I'm staying, Peter."

Peter quickly rolls over so he can look into Stiles's eyes. He didn't hear his heartbeat blip but…

"Really," Stiles tells him, seeming to read his mind. "I'm not leaving again." And then he reaches over to the nightstand and picks something up. A box. He hands it to Peter.

Inside is a beautiful cuff. A permanent one. There's no mistaking this one. It's made to last. 

"This…?" Peter asks softly.

"If you'll have me," Stiles says.

Peter searches his eyes. Then he leans in and gives him a smacking kiss, and grins. "I want a new contract. Something permanent." For a lot of reasons, but in the back of his mind he's thinking he wants a guarantee Stiles won't leave again.

"Anything you want," Stiles says.

"I love you," Peter says.

Stiles smiles. "Oh, baby. I love you, too."

* * *

They gather in the main house for Sunday brunch, and Stiles takes Talia aside as Peter watches. He sees his Alpha's face light up and she hugs Stiles right then and there. Then a few minutes later, Talia makes the announcement just as everyone has sat down to eat. 

The cheer isn't unexpected, but the look on Stiles's face is priceless. Peter realizes how much this means to Stiles, to be welcomed by the pack, to be loved and respected. Valued. 

Peter doesn't really have to worry about Stiles leaving. He has everything he could possibly want right here.

Peter looks at Stiles and blows him a kiss. Stiles grins back, pink-cheeked and brimming with happy-scent. And Peter realizes he has everything he could possibly want, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked it.  
> You can find me on [Tumblr here](http://yogi-bogey-box.tumblr.com/)  
> The tumblr post for this fic is [here, if you want to reblog](http://yogi-bogey-box.tumblr.com/post/172199714444/title-begging-me-to-open-up-my-mouth-pairing).


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